


Wanted

by ravenlowe



Series: Wanting [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bottom!Cullen, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Here Lies the Abyss Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Power Play, Relationship Issues, Relationship(s), Rimming, Sex Toys, Spoilers, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, functional triad, orgasam denial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2813132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenlowe/pseuds/ravenlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and short!fics that take place in the Wanting universe.  Crossposted from Tumblr.  Warnings are listed in each chapter. </p><p>Cullen, Dorian, and the Inquisitor do their best to navigate the ins and outs of their new relationship, and oh, right, the looming end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Indecision

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the kind of continuation to Wanting. I decided that I wanted to write more in this verse, so I've opened up prompts on my tumblr, and will be drabbling in it here and there. My tumblr URL will be listed down below.
> 
> Starting off on a kind of serious note:
> 
> Indecision  
> Summary: Cullen and the Inquisitor have a talk about what it means to like both.  
> Warnings: Discussion about sexuality.

“Do you ever miss..women?” The question falls flat to Cullen’s ears, but he trusts the Inquisitor to know what he means. At times, their entire relationship seems to be based on Cullen’s ability to put his foot in his mouth, and the Inquisitor’s ability to continue on like it never happened. Dorian laughs at them both if he’s in earshot, but today he’s running late for their lunch appointment, which makes it the perfect time for him to ask this question.

They’re leaning against a parapet together, well, Cullen is leaning back against the parapet and the Inquisitor is leaning forward against him with his face hidden between Cullen’s neck and mantle. The way the Inquisitor startles after Cullen speaks, makes it apparent the Inquisitor was sleeping on him, and Cullen flushes. He has a bit of a _thing_ for fresh-from-sleep-Inquisitor, and Maker, that’s not going to be conductive to the conversation he was attempting to initiate.

“Mm, repeat that?” The Inquisitor nuzzles back into the crook of Cullen’s neck, and as tempting as it is, Cullen wants to talk about this—without Dorian, who he doesn’t think will understand.

“Do you ever miss..being with women?”

The Inquisitor seems to understand Cullen’s mood, and pulls away to lean back against the parapet next to him. Cullen immediately misses the warmth of The Inquisitor’s breath against his neck, but the distance helps. _Later,_ he promises himself. The times the three of them have managed to get together are few and far between, but Cullen _will_ make time today if he can just get through this.

“When do I have the time to?” The Inquisitor huffs, shaking his head. “But no, not really. Mostly, I just feel happy, and maybe a little selfish in knowing that I’m keeping you _and_ Dorian all to myself.  I notice them sure.  We’re surrounded by beautiful women, it’s hard not to notice, but I don’t _want_ for them. Do you? Miss being with women, that is?”

Ah, there’s the vulnerability that’s made Cullen put off bringing this up for over a week. Cullen hates hearing it in the other man’s voice, and it’s even worse knowing he put it there. Cullen speaks quick to try and dispel the Inquisitor’s doubts before they can really take hold. “Not as much as I thought I would. Perhaps even less than I did before? I think, it’s more of the thought that I should? I’ve spent my entire life thinking I was attracted to women— _only_ women, and now…”

The Inquisitor relaxes beside him and twines his fingers with Cullen’s. Cullen marvels again, at how easy it is for the Inquisitor to just reach out and take his hand. Physical affection has never come so easily to Cullen, who now, even after two months of being together, checks himself before reaching out to one of his lovers. The touch puts him at ease, and Cullen begins to release some of the tension from his shoulders.

“I think I understand,” The Inquisitor mummers after a long moment of silence. He’s not looking at Cullen, but off into the distance as he licks his lips and tries to put together what he’s going to say next. “Liking _both_ doesn’t mean you have to _want_ both all the time,” he begins, hesitantly, “while being with one doesn’t mean you’ve stopped liking both either. I suppose it feels like one of those statements should cancel the other out, but it doesn’t. It’s more complicated than that, and that’s the problem, right?

“Maybe,” the Inquisitor trails off with a frown as he turns to face Cullen. “We spend too much time giving into expectations and fitting things into neatly labeled boxes, and doing so, close ourselves off to possibility. What you think you _should_ feel, doesn’t matter as much as what you _do_ feel. What _do_ you feel, Cullen?”

The Inquisitor’s words give him something to think about, but for now Cullen can answer the other man’s question without hesitation. It’s not the first time The Inquisitor or Dorian have asked what he’s feeling, and it won’t be the last. “I feel _right;_ maybe not happy—it’s hard to be with the threat that is looming over us—but content. More at ease than I think I’ve been in years. Strong. I feel strong.”

The Inquisitor’s smile is blinding. “Good. That’s good.” There’s a flush to his cheeks, and Cullen has a feeling the other man meant to be more eloquent. He knows that look; he wears it often enough. “That’s..that’s what you hold on to. Don’t worry too much about what you think you should be missing, because if you’re not? That’s a good thing, and if that changes, then we talk and we find a solution.”

Cullen doesn’t think he’ll be able to let that feeling of _should_ go so easily, but he has a good place to start, and the support of a man who never fails to surprise him. Perhaps even two men.

Dorian approaches from the Tower looking mildly put off, but with his expression lightening as he nears. “Look at the two of you! So serious, and I do hate to interrupt, but, who am I kidding I love sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong. What is it we’re talking about then?”

Cullen opens his mouth to try and explain, but the Inquisitor beats him to it. He steps forward to greet their lover with a kiss to the cheek, then slings an arm over Dorian’s shoulder. “Women,” he quips. “Do _you_ miss being with one?”

Dorian’s face alights in an outraged, ‘oh,’ and he elbows the Inquisitor hard in the ribs. “Andraste’s paisley panties, no! I tried being with a woman once. It was _horrible._ ” He must not be _too_ outraged, because he returns The Inquisitor’s kiss, then turns to Cullen with a raised brow. Oh, to even have half as much surety in who he is as Dorian has in his little finger.

Cullen laughs and rubs the back of his neck as he steps forward to repeat the greeting. At the last moment Dorian turns his head and kisses Cullen on the lips instead. They stay like that until the Inquisitor lets out a small, polite cough that has them pulling apart. The three of them have gravitated close into each others’ personal space, just like that, without an ounce of thought to it, and the proximity leaves Cullen feeling warm, and maybe even a little more sure than he was just moments before.

They’re bickering now, but Cullen lets the good-natured teasing wash over him as he corrals them towards his office for lunch. He still has questions about himself, and about well, everything, but what is absolutely unquestionable, is that Cullen is exactly where he wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wasn’t going to post this. Sexuality, particularly with the Cullen fandom right now, is kind of a hot button topic. I still don’t know if I’ve addressed it correctly but, the Inquisitor’s thoughts on sexuality are pretty reflective of my own. I’m not an expert. I haven’t studied or read extensively but, sexuality is something, I think, that many people experience differently. Some people just know, and some struggle with it for years, if not their entire lives. So, I guess that’s the disclaimer. The views Re: Bisexuality and well Sexuality in general are my own and are in no way meant to infringe on someone elses’. What works for me, might not work for someone else. I understand and support that. Find what makes you happy.
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @ mostlyharmlessgaming


	2. Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's rare all three of them sleep at the same time.

Dorian sleeps in the middle. He’s a bed hog and a limpet and he’s the only one of the three of them that can bear the amount of heat that’s generated between them when they’re asleep. He revels in it even. He curls on his side, half atop of Cullen, with his face tucked into Cullen’s shoulder, and mustache tickling at Cullen’s neck.

The Inquisitor sleeps poorly. Cullen might be the one waking up in the middle of the night shaking with the taste of lyrium on the tip of his tongue, but the Inquisitor rarely makes it to sleep at all. The way he frowns, even while asleep makes Cullen worry that they’re putting too much on the man. He curls on his left side around Dorian and buries his face into the back of the mage’s neck. The Inquisitor tucks the anchor close, fisted over his own chest, while he flings his right arm over Dorian to rest his palm flat over Cullen’s heart. 

Cullen gets the left side of the bed. He sleeps on his back; he can’t leave his back unprotected, even while alone with two men he trusts above most others. It’s not odd sharing a bed with two other people, he used to share with his siblings while growing up, after all, but the nudity is a new thing— not bad, but new. He prays Skyhold never gets attacked in the middle of the night. He twines his fingers with the Inquisitor’s on his chest, and turns his head to nuzzle into Dorian’s hair—the sweet scent of the oils Dorian uses keeping him grounded as he drifts off to slumber.

Their legs get tangled together, and on the rare, precious times they wake together, they wake so tightly entwined that it takes forever to figure out whose limbs are whose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a little short, but I've been kind of obsessed thinking about how they sleep. I am working on a longer (and dirtier) one shot, so I'll hopefully get done with that sometime within the next week.
> 
> I also want to say thank you for the feedback on the first chapter, and on Wanting. I really enjoy seeing the comments, even if I'm a dweeb about answering them. I'll get to that too, now that the holidays are over. Thank you, again!
> 
> I can be found on tumblr @ mostlyharmlessgaming


	3. Evasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship isn't always easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for: Here Lies the Abyss, vague mention of alcoholism, relationship trouble, and a dash of angst with a hopeful ending

Adamant leaves a sour taste in Cullen's mouth. They've claimed a victory over Corypheus again, but at what cost? The Inquisitor and his companions have been tight lipped about the details, but the absence of Hawke leads to obvious conclusions. They have their victory, yes, but it's an uneasy one, and the emotional fallout has been left to fester on the long march home.

Cullen is loathe to let either of his lovers out of his sight as they walk through Skyhold's gates, but somehow they all end up going separate ways without a word. They all have things to take care of, and they've never been in the habit of flaunting their relationship in public, but that doesn't stop Cullen's gut from clenching as he watches their backs disappear up the stairs into the Keep. A kiss. The touch of a hand. A smile. Anything to reassure him that they're both still alive, and still his; is that too much to ask?

He watches them go with barely concealed longing then turns to the courtyard to see to his lieutenants. There is still work to be done, and Cullen tries to keep his mind on it, but he can't seem to help but dwell on the battle and it's aftermath. There are no words to describe the rush of emotion that hit him as he watched the bridge at Adamant collapse with his lovers atop it. A demon had nearly taken his head off in his distraction. Cullen has known pain, and he has known despair, but this was more-- so much more.

He'd sent a a pair of scouts to scour the rubble for any signs of survivors then turned back to the battle at hand. He owed it to them, and the men under his command to keep fighting. So fight, Cullen did. He fought hard and past the point of exhaustion and did his best to hold onto the hope that maybe, the Inquisitor had another miracle in him. Maybe they had survived. 

His hope had been rewarded, or had it?

Both of his lovers are home, hale and uninjured, but between Dorian's evasiveness and the Inquisitor's carefully maintained blank expression, it's obvious the two men aren't feeling the same abject relief about that that Cullen is. He's been unable to get much out of either of them, and that's telling enough. 

Cullen works into the evening without sign of either, so he drags himself up the stairs to the Inquisitor's quarters and waits, but only the Inquisitor appears. He seems to have aged years in the past few hours, and Cullen doesn't resist when the other man pushes him into the bed then curls up against him but facing away. It's strange, without Dorian there. Cullen is so used to it being the three of them that the bed feels empty with only two.

They lay there together in the dark and the silence before the Inquisitor rolls over and buries his face against Cullen's chest. "I don't know that I'm fit for this. People..they keep..dying. Varric's face.. and having to tell him that it was my decision. He may never forgive me."

He's trembling, and Cullen rolls up onto his side so he can wrap his arms around the other man. The Inquisitor, for all of his grace and aristocratic bearing, is still unused to loss. Cullen doubts that Varric's reaction to Hawke's death alone is causing this much distress. This has been building for a while. Perhaps since the Conclave itself. The Inquisitor's upset, however, doesn't explain Dorian's absence.

"Hawke's fate is not your fault," Cullen tries to soothe The Inquisitor, but he's having none of it.

"I'm the one that made the decision," he insists. “I'm the one that opened up that damn portal into the Fade.”

"I kno--knew Hawke too, and believe me when I tell you there is perhaps one person living or dead that could make Hawke do something he didn't want to do, and you are not that person." Cullen hopes, that perhaps now, Hawke has finally found some of the peace he deserves. "If he wanted to stay behind, not even the Maker himself could have made him leave. Varric knows that as well as I do."

"You don't know what happened," the Inquisitor bites and his breath hitches. 

Cullen realizes the other man is crying, and pulls him closer. "I will if you tell me," he mummers, and buries his face into the Inquisitor's hair.

His answer comes in the form of a sniff and an arm tightening around his waist. It's obvious that the Inquisitor won't be telling him tonight, and Cullen doesn't press. If he could wait for details during the march back from Adamant, he can wait one more night. For now, he will hold tight to his lover, and remind him that no matter the dangers he faces, he does not face them alone.

They fall silent after that, and, eventually fall into fitful sleep. Dorian never joins them.

~x~

Morning comes far too soon. Cullen feels like he hasn't slept a wink, but he pries himself out of the bed anyway. There's work to be done. 

He and the Inquisitor part ways after breakfast, and it feels as if the day goes down from there.

Cullen spends most of the morning dealing with requisition forms that have come back from the quartermaster. Their army is skilled, but if they hope to continue as they have, they'll need equipment for the new recruits, and to replace what was lost at Adamant. He takes lunch in his office. 

The Inquisitor strides into the war room after lunch, as per usual, but debriefing from their battle seems to be the last thing on his mind. He's clearly agitated, but unwilling to talk about how he got into the state. Cullen hopes to corner him after they're no longer bound by the chains of professionalism, but he storms out almost as quickly as he came in. 

The Inquisitor mumbles something about going to the Hinterlands for 'warrior's therapy' and he's taking the Iron Bull with him. Cullen doesn't like it, considering they just returned from a major battle, and they all should be taking some time to rest, but there's no stopping the Inquisitor. He sees his lover off, and decides that work be damned, it's time to get to the bottom of this. 

Cullen gives Josephine and Leliana his excuses even though it's likely they know more about what's going on than he does, and goes to find Dorian. 

It takes most of the afternoon; Dorian is slippery when he wants to be. Cullen finally catches up with him in the gardens, lounging on the bench that they still share lunches on when time permits. He's smiling, but it looks forced. Fake. "Hello, Commander! Come to enjoy the sunlight?"

Cullen shakes his head and drops himself into the sliver of space on the bench that Dorian isn't covering. He has to wriggle a bit to force the mage to make more room. Dorian huffs, disgruntled, and sits up. "Something like that," Cullen begins, and finds that he's unsure how to continue. He has plenty of questions about Dorian's recent behavior, but has no idea how to ask them.

Dorian, as always, picks up on this and does it for him. "Ah. I expected this, but I thought it would be a group effort. The Inquisitor is..?"

"Gone," Cullen finishes for him. Dorian's eyes widen and his head jerks back. It's clearly not the answer he was expecting. "He's gone somewhere in the Hinterlands with Iron Bull, Cassandra, and Vivienne. They left around an hour ago."

Surprise becomes outrage, and then after a moment Dorian becomes resigned and accepting, even. Dorian is usually harder to read, but either Cullen is learning his expressions, or Dorian isn't bothering to hide them. It's likely the latter; reading people has never been Cullen's forte.

"So that's how it is to be," Dorian sighs, staring off into the distance before his eyes cut to Cullen. "I asked him for some space. It seems he means to give it to me by leaving me behind."

It's Cullen's turn to be surprised. It feels as if his heart has stopped and his breath catches in his throat. He turns to fully face Dorian, stricken. "Space? Are you not happy with--," Cullen stumbles over his words and has to pause to suck in a breath. "Us?"

"I am happy," Dorian is quick to reassure him and goes so far to reach out and rest his palm against Cullen's cheek. "Deliriously so, most of the time."

Cullen frowns, trying to wrap his mind around Dorian's words. "I don't understand."

Dorian laughs, but it's bitter and hearing it hurts Cullen. He normally loves Dorian's laugh—and the way the corners of his lips curl when he smiles-- but this is false. It's wrong, and Cullen wants to fix it. "I'm not sure I understand it either. I'm not..I've never done this, and I'm not talking about just the three of us, but relationships, in general. Before now it was something I could only fantasize about-- a real relationship.” His eyes are pleading with Cullen to understand.

It's been easy so far to take for granted that Dorian is the most experienced of the three of them when it comes to sex. Sex and love are two different concepts however, and it's jarring to realize that Dorian might be on more even footing with himself than Cullen expected. Dorian always appears so self-assured. He masks his self-doubt better than anyone seems to give him credit for.

“Neither have I,” Cullen confesses. “There's always been something in the way. A lack of time. Circumstances. Duty.”

Dorian seems to relax, just a little, and Cullen takes that as a win. “Why, Commander, and here I was thinking you had to beat them off with a stick.”

Cullen rolls his eyes, and lets the deflection slide. “It's a bit terrifying, realizing someone else means so much to you.”

He's hit the nail on the head because Dorian sobers and, unless Cullen is imagining it, moves a little closer. “I walked out of the Fade,” Dorian begins. “Then I turned around, expecting the Inquisitor to be right behind me, but he wasn't. The minutes stretched on, but he wasn't there, and it hurt. I'm not naive. Every breath we take might be our last the way demons seem to be determined to breathe down our necks, but in that moment, the possibility that it was over, that he was gone, was real, and I couldn't imagine going on without him. I still can't. I've never imagined that I could give myself to someone so wholly that I would feel so lost without them.”

“I watched both of you disappear, and nearly got myself killed in the process. I had to convince myself that you weren't dead until we found the bodies so that I could go on.” 

Dorian startles at that. “You must think me thoughtless, and selfish.”

“Only a little,” Cullen smiles. “You hog the blankets.”

Dorian scowls then bumps his shoulder against Cullen's, which only makes it worse. He rubs are the place where bare skin met hard metal and scowls some more. “Look at what you've made me do you brute!”

“I'd offer to kiss it better..” Cullen trails off. He's unsure where they stand now. It's upsetting to find that the east they've been sharing between them these last months is so easily shattered.

Dorian must feel it too. He looks regretful, and perhaps, a little unsure. It's an expression more fitting for Cullen's face. Dorian should always be smiling.

A silence falls between them that Cullen struggles to fill. There has to be something he can say to fix this. Maybe he should leave well enough alone, make his excuses, and leave Dorian to his solitude.

But no.

“When we started this--” Cullen struggles to put a name to something that's never needed one before, “--relationship, I was sure that I was going to be the one that would wake up and realizing that he was in over his head. For a while, I'd wake up with the question in my head. Is today the day? The answer has always been no. Eventually, I stopped asking.”

Now that he's started, he can't seem to stop. Dorian begins to interrupt him, but Cullen holds up his hand, then continues. “I've been happier, lighter, stronger, than I have since perhaps childhood. The feeling I get, when I stand next to you and the Inquisitor-- when our hands brush, when our lips meet-- for me, it's worth the pain and fear that love also brings. Having tasted that, I know that I am changed. To go back to how things were before it's...unthinkable.”

Cullen's cheeks are hot, and he feels a little lightheaded. He's going to agonize over this later; he's already agonizing over it now. Maker, he's not even sure what that rambling was supposed to convince Dorian of. He just started speaking and there it all came rolling out. Dorian doesn't look at stunned as Cullen feels. He's smiling. Oh, it's a small upturn of the lips, but it's there, and maybe Cullen's embarrassment is worth it. 

He stands, and smooths out imagined wrinkles in his clothes. “I've said too much. If space is what you need, Dorian, then take it. You know your own mind, and your own heart. I will not lie, and say you won't be missed. I love you, Dorian, but would rather that you find your own happiness than stay for the sake of the Inquisitor or myself.”

“Cullen,” Dorian makes to stand, but Cullen shakes his head and holds up his hands again.

“I should have reported back to Leliana and Josephine an hour ago. I'll leave you to it.” Cullen skitters—strides, he strides away before Dorian can try and stop him again. It's not his smoothest exit, but who is he kidding, his exits are never smooth. Cullen is never smooth. He's only delaying the rest of the conversation, but perhaps it should be delayed, at least until the Inquisitor is back. Their relationship was built on the three of them together, and it will take the three of them, together, to reach a conclusion.

There's no way he's returning to the war room, however. Cullen is unsettled, and Leliana will be able to read him like an open book. Instead, he decides to seek out a little warrior's therapy of his own in the practice yards. Surely, there's some recruit that needs work on his forms.

~x~

Cullen goes to bed alone in his loft that night. Sleep is a long time coming, but after what feels like hours of tossing and turning he manages to drift off.

He wakes at sunrise; bleary-eyed once more, but ready to push through the day. It's odd, almost, to go through his morning routine as if he isn't being eaten up inside with worry. Will Dorian decide that it is really all too much? And where does that leave Cullen and the Inquisitor? Cullen has worried over a great many things in his thirty-odd years, but nothing so close to his heart. It's different. He knows, that either way, he will survive it; life will go on. Cullen survived Kinloch Hold. He survived Kirkwall. He's surviving breaking his chains to the Templar Order. What is a little heartbreak in the face of all of that?

\--A terrifying prospect that he would rather not face.

He doesn't exactly avoid Dorian, but he doesn't go looking for him either. Instead he goes about his normal routine and holds out hope, that Dorian will come find him. It's not a brilliant plan, but Cullen doesn't want to pressure Dorian, so it's the only one he has. The day drags on, despite the abundance of work he accomplishes. It's late when he drags himself up the stairs to the Inquisitor's quarters. It's childish, but maybe he won't feel so alone if he's surrounded by their scents.

Cullen stops short at the top of the staircase. Dorian is already stretched out in the Inquisitor's bed and his eyes are locked on Cullen's. “Dorian,” he states the obvious then flinches.

“Commander,” Dorian answers, and Cullen can hear the smirk in his tone. “I was hoping you would join me.”

“You were?” Cullen doesn't want to let himself hope that Dorian has worked through his feelings so soon, but it's hard not to feel a little warm when Dorian is pinning him with his stare. “You... you've come to a decision then?” He moves to sit on the edge of the four-post bed, and Dorian twists on the sheets until he's sitting with his legs crossed next to Cullen.

“You have a way with words, Commander. I can see why your troops rally behind you.”

Cullen flushes at the compliment and at Dorian's teasing tone.

“Not that you gave me the time to tell you as much before you made your hasty retreat.”

Cullen huffs. “It was a strategic retreat,” he defends. “You had things to think about and I... had things to do.”

“I'm sure you did,” Dorian leers then sobers. “I did do some thinking while I was alone in my bed, shivering. The two of you have ruined me, you know.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, you're not,” Dorian quips. “I'm not either—not really. This..thing. It isn't what I imagined being in love would feel like. It's so much more. More, certainly than I thought I was was capable of feeling. I'm man enough to admit that it scares me just how much it turns out I can feel. It's all well and good when everything is sunshine and roses and covert handjobs in the middle of the afternoon, but sometimes it's life and imminent death and pain.” He scoffs and looks away from Cullen. “I knew that love could hurt. I'm intimately familiar with it. In fact, I'd promised myself that I would never let love hurt me again.”

“So where does that leave us?” Cullen asks, wanting to get to, and dreading the point that they're dancing around, before he does something stupid and tries to comfort Dorian. His hands are clenched in his lap to prevent just that. He wants to duck a finger under Dorian's chin and press a kiss to his cheek, and remind Dorian that love doesn't have to be painful or scary.

“It leaves us here.” Dorian's shoulders slump, but he faces Cullen again with a coy turn of his head. “You're right—don't let it get to your ego, Commander. It's worth it.” Dorian offers him a tiny smile that Cullen returns. “It's not a fairytale romance, but it's real, and I would rather live with the morbid fear that every day together might be our last, than end it now and be miserable. That turn of thought is a self-fulfilling prophecy, and I refuse to be that person.”

Cullen can't contain it any longer. He surges forward and presses his lips to Dorian's in a kiss that somehow ends up more tender than desperate. Dorian doesn't even seem to be surprised. He shifts forward until he's straddling Cullen's lap, and his mustache tickles Cullen's skin as the corners of his lips tick upwards into a smile. Cullen pulls back before it can become passionate, and just looks at Dorian, who, miracle of all miracles, begins to flush under Cullen's scrutiny.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” Cullen can't help but point out, and Dorian huffs fondly in return.

“Don't look at me like that you great puppy. Fereldens; so in love with your dogs that you even act like them.”

“Woof,” Cullen laughs and Dorian scowls.

“So that's it then? I let the fear go to my head and nearly end our relationship but with a little talk and a kiss, all is forgiven?”

Cullen nods then rests his forehead on Dorian's. “I can't speak for the Inquisitor, but yes, all forgiven. I meant it when I said I trust you to know your own heart. All I want is for all of us to be happy, preferably together, but happy.”

Dorian marvels at him for a moment then shakes his head. “I can't say that I won't scare off again. I'll test boundaries and be horrible.”

He sounds like he's trying to warn Cullen off, but Cullen has no illusions about who Dorian is. He might not have the entire story, but it's obvious that Dorian has been hurt by someone he's cared about in the past. Cullen's been hurt too, and maybe someday they'll be able to share that with one another. “And I'll keep faith that once your head clears, you'll come home again.”

Dorian nods, and presses Cullen down until he is flat on the mattress then curls up beside him. They're still dressed, and laying the wrong way on the covers, but neither of them seem to care. They're together, and that's what matters. There's still the issue of the Inquisitor to deal with. His absence in the bed is just as obvious and glaring as Dorian's had been that first night, but for now it seems that Dorian is done talking. Cullen can accept that. He's at peace again, and sure that things will work out in their favor.

The night is long, but the dawn will come.

~x~

The Inquisitor rides back through Skyhold's gates two days later, with a bright grin on his face, despite the dirty bandage that's wrapped around his head. It's random circumstance that Cullen's in the courtyard to greet him. He most definitely didn't hurry down to be there after the watchman informed him of the party's approach. Their eyes lock and the Inquisitor's grin widens. After the sullen huff he left in, that grin in a welcome sight.

The joy is infectious, and Cullen can't help but answer the grin with a tiny smile of his own.

The obvious injuries are more troubling. The Inquisitor is stiff as he dismounts, and he sways to lean back against his horse once he's on the ground. Cullen barely has time to register the annoyed huff from over his left shoulder, before Dorian is striding around him to approach. “Amatus! What have you done to yourself now?”

They've come a long way in the Inquisitor's absence, and while Cullen wishes the other man had been present for those conversations, there's nothing in the world that Cullen would trade getting to see the Inquisitor go dumbfounded in the face of Dorian's change in attitude then light up as if all his dreams have come true. He hesitates at first, and glances back at Cullen who does his best to look reassuring, before he turns back to Dorian with a face so full of joy that it makes Cullen's soul ache.

Dorian reaches up to run his fingers over the soiled bandage, but the Inquisitor flinches from the touch. “It's nothing. I was a bit slow and didn't dodge the claw in time. Lesson learned!”

Cullen's frown mirrors Dorian's. “Dodge..the claw?”

“We killed a dragon.” Cassandra scoffs as she ducks around the three of them to head inside. “This is the first load of what we harvested. The scouts know the locations of the rest.”

Sure enough, as Cullen turns his attention away from the Inquisitor, he catches sight of the Iron Bull revealing an actual dragon's head, frozen on a liter, with a proud flourish to the gathered crowd. Cullen might be imagining it, but the Bull appears to be subtly flexing as he gestures to it and launches into the tale of how they brought it down. The story is undoubtedly an interesting one, but the Bull isn't the person Cullen wants to hear it from.

Dorian takes one look at it and pokes the Inquisitor in the shoulder. Hard. “Of all the stupid..reckless..” Even Dorian, for once seems to be foundering for the right words.

The Inquisitor scowls and rubs at his shoulder, “This isn't the reception I was imagining.”

“All hail the conquering hero-- and you brought back the head; how quaint. I suppose you'll want it mounted in the hall as a big, gaudy testament to your bravery,” Dorian answers with the driest tone Cullen has ever heard and rolls his eyes skyward.

The Inquisitor blinks, then his grin returns. “Now I know that you're happy to see me! You only get snippy when you're pleased.”

“Snippy? Pleased? That head wound must be worse than you're letting on. You're clearly addled.” Dorian pushes the stumbling Inquisitor in the direction of the Keep. “To the healer with you, before you fall flat on your face. I'm rather fond of said face, and would hate to see it further damaged. Commander, perhaps you'll join us at your earliest convince?”

It's as close as they've ever been to addressing their relationship in public. Before now, Dorian would have shied away from a vague declaration, but it seems that after their talks, something has settled in the other man, as his only reaction to his slip is to raise a brow at Cullen when he takes too long to answer. “Of course,” Cullen nods. “I believe I know where to find you once I've taken care of..this.” He gestures at the crowd and the dragon head sitting in the middle of his courtyard.

Dorian nods then turns to continue prodding the Inquisitor inside. Cullen watches him go, with a fond look that he'll be given hell over later from one of any number of witnesses.

“Does this mean our first fight is over and now we can have makeup sex?” The Inquisitor asks as they go and Cullen flushes then turns away, just in time to catch Varric's knowing look.

Well. Damn.

~x~

 

There is no makeup sex. The healers refuse to heal anything that isn't life threatening, so the Inquisitor goes to bed with a throbbing bump on the head and a plethora of bruises that cover almost the entire expanse of his chest. He's not concussed, and nothing is broken, but he's far too sore for anything they normally get up to in the bedchamber.

Instead they curl together in the bed with the Inquisitor propped up on a mound of pillows, Cullen fitted next to him, and Dorian sprawled across their laps. Predictably, Dorian is the first to succumb to sleep. Cullen's fingers curl through the mage's hair in a petting motion that almost soothes him to sleep as well. It's quiet, and perhaps more intimate than the sex would have been, and Cullen feels right for the first time in weeks. It's so easy to fall back into this togetherness as if nothing happened, but Cullen doesn't think he'll forget just how fragile their relationship truly is for a long time.

“Thank you,” the Inquisitor's soft spoken words break him from his chain of thought.

Cullen blinks. “For what?”

“For being you. For fixing us.” He leans over and presses a kiss to Cullen's cheek. “I know that leaving was weak of me, but the temptation was too much. If I stayed, you'd have had to peel me up from the bottom of the tavern floor, and who knows what I would have done? What I would have said? I never want to be that person here. I don't want to be that person again, period. So I did the only thing I thought I could do, but abandoned you, and Dorian, at the same time.”

“I understand,” he tries to reassure the Inquisitor, and really he does. He understands the want and he understands the fear that comes along with it. “I don't know if it was the right decision, but I understand it. We muddled through without you.”

“You did more than muddle.”

“Honestly, I think all we do is muddle,” Cullen huffs causing the Inquisitor to laugh.

“Maybe you have a point. Perhaps that's the best we can hope for, muddling. Together.”

“Together,” Cullen echoes, reinforcing the word.

“Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day! This one got hard to write, hence the gap between updates. Due to popular request, the next chapter will likely be something more PWP~y, and I'm working out an outline for a larger project with this pairing, so I'm not done yet, even if the chapters are taking a little longer.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, hitting the little heart, bookmarking, and reviewing. Thank you ALL for taking the time to do those thing. It all means so much to me and generally makes me so flustered I don't know how to live with myself. Awk~ward.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ mostlyharmlessgaming Prompts, asks, and etc are always welcome.


	4. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Five People that had Discussions about Cullen's New Romance and the Two that Didn't Need Words
> 
> For a prompt from my tumblr:
> 
> well, then here's a prompt if you ever feel like filling one: the rest of the inquisitions reactions to the three of them getting together (ngl, part of me wants this to be semi serious, but the bigger part of me just wants varric and hawke in true snl style telling cullen "congrats on the sex" preferably on a cake as custom dictates ;D)

**  
Cassandra  
  
** Cullen uses the rag Cassandra passes him to wipe the sweat from his forehead as they take a moment to cool down from their morning spar.  He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there seems to be some sort of restless energy about Cassandra.  She’s started and stopped herself from saying something three times over the course of the hour, and that alone more than justifies Cullen’s unease.

Even now she’s staring at him as if she wants to say something.  He can see the words on the tip of her tongue, ready to let go, but the awkward, uncharacteristic silence between them continues.  Of course, Cullen is the one to break first.  “Is there something on my face?”

Cassandra frowns and swallows before resolving herself to the conversation to come.  “About your.. relationship with the Inquisitor and Dorian?”

Cullen flushes, because of course he does.  This thing they have between the three of them is still new, and fragile, and how does Cassandra know anyway?  He scratches at the hair on the nape of his neck.  It’s a nervous tick.  He can’t help it.  “My relationship.  With the Inquisitor; and Dorian.  We are in a relationship.”  Cullen trips over the words, but it feels good to say it.  “What about it?”

“Are you sure about it?”  The weight of Cassandra’s gaze brings Cullen back down to reality.  He understands what she’s really asking.  Their arrangement isn’t unheard of, but it’s not common either; and that’s not even thinking of who the Inquisitor is, who Dorian is, who Cullen himself is.  Even if the three of them were no one, there would be talk, but the three of them stand for _things,_ and not all of those _things_ are _things_ that will work in their favor.

Her worries aren’t anything that Cullen hasn’t already thought of, and answering Cassandra is easy.  “As sure as I’ve been of anything in a very long time.”  He says it with a finality that makes her understand all the things he’s left unsaid.  It isn’t what Cullen ever expected for himself, but he’s _happy,_ and he’s willing to fight for that happiness if need be.

Cassandra studies his face, and seems to find what she’s looking for because she gives him a curt nod and sheathes her sword.  She’s not one for words, but they’ve worked together enough that Cullen can relax as they part ways for the morning.  The nod is affirmation enough, that if Cullen does have to fight for his happiness, she’ll have his back.

He hopes that it will never come to that.  For now, he needs to warn his _lovers_ that their secret is out.

 

**Cole**

It takes Cullen a moment to realize that he’s being slept on.

They’d been having a quiet evening in, reading, while pressed flush together on a settee that was really only meant to hold two.

It’s warm, and comfortable, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that over the course of time the Inquisitor has somehow ended up sideways across Cullen’s lap with his head nuzzled against the former templar’s chest, while Dorian is listing into the space the Inquisitor used to be, dozing against Cullen’s shoulder.  Cullen is a hair’s breadth from drifting off, himself, when a soft voice startles him back to a moment of wakefulness. 

“He sleeps better when you’re near.  The smiles are more real.  Should be confusing with so many, but it’s not.”

Cullen is man enough to admit that he’s discomfited by Cole.  The _spirit_ , in his odd way, has been nothing but helpful, but Cullen can’t shake his unease.  Cole has an odd way of seeing through things.  Things, being Cullen.  This, isn’t so bad though.  Cole’s not saying anything that Cullen wasn’t already aware of.

He treasures each time the Inquisitor sleeps through the night at his side, and Dorian’s smile–the small, genuine one– makes Cullen warm until he can’t help but smile back.

“I sleep better when they’re near,” he confesses, unsure of why he is being so candid, and Cole nods from where he’s peering at them over the back of the settee.  Cullen slumps back against the cushion again with one arm wrapped around Dorian and the other curled around the Inquisitor to keep them in place.  The rush of adrenaline from being startled is fading.  Was he this tired before?  Even keeping his eyes open is becoming a chore.

When Cole’s voice comes again, Cullen nearly misses the soft, melodic words that lull him into sleep.  “Quiet the whispers.  Stronger when they hold you.  Stumbling steps where the walls used to be.  There’s no need to help.  Nothing to fix.  A stool with three legs is more balanced.  Stable.  Strong.  Bends but will not break.”

 

**Sera**

It’s completely by chance that Cullen hears the conversation.  He’s on his way back to his office after observing some of the new recruits when he passes under Sera’s open window.   She and the Inquisitor are sitting in the sill with their legs dangling over the edge–kicking back and forth as they chatter.

“So it’s you and ‘im _and_ ‘im?  Awful lot of swords innit?”

Somehow, they haven’t seen him so Cullen presses back against the wall.  He’s embarrassed at what he’s doing, but curious enough to stay.  The Inquisitor laughs–light and happy– and Cullen can’t help but smile.  He loves that laugh and doesn’t get to hear it near often enough.

“It is,” the Inquisitor huffs.  “But somehow we make do.”  He makes it sound like it’s some great chore, and Cullen supposes at times it might be.  They don’t always get along perfectly, but so far they’ve been able to soothe over each others’ rough edges with far more ease than Cullen ever expected.  “I mean, there’s thing Dorian does with his tongue, and Cullen’s flush really does go–”

“Oi!  Too much information,” Sera squawks.  “Na. Na. Na. Na.  Can’t hear you!”

The Inquisitor is laughing again, and Cullen can’t see them, but he imagines Sera is plugging her ears as she tries to drown the Inquisitor’s words out with the humming.  Cullen, predictably, is flushing.  He’s going to have to have words with the Inquisitor, because, really; speaking of Dorian’s tongue and how far Cullen’s flush may or may not go while seated in an open window?  Their relationship is quickly becoming Skyhold’s worst kept secret.

“Suppose you’ll be wanting me to cool down on the ‘pranking the commander thing,’ eh?”  Sera asks after they’ve calmed back down.

Cullen would appreciate that, yes, but the Inquisitor’s answer is contrary.  “I believe Cullen can fight his own battles.  What the two of you get up to, is just that, between the two of you.”  

Sera seems to get the Inquisitor’s point.  “And what you and ‘im and ‘im get up to in the bedsheets is between the three of you?”

“Just so.”

It’s time to go.  Cullen continues on his way with a soft smile on his face.  It’s more maturity than he expected from Sera, but there will still be a talk about appropriate places to discuss personal matters.

 

**The Iron Bull**

“Hey Commander!”  The sudden greeting startles Cullen.  He tenses, but stops before his hand can go to his sword.  The Iron Bull is leaning back against the same wall Cullen himself had used just the day before while eavesdropping on the Inquisitor and Sera.  How someone so large can move so quietly is beyond Cullen.  He can only be glad The Iron Bull is on their side–or at least that’s what the Inquisitor assures him. The Inquisitor also wasn’t in Kirkwall.

Cullen shakes off /that/ memory and offers the Qunari a smile.  "Hello, Bull.  I didn’t see you there.“

The Iron Bull steps out of the shadows and closer to Cullen.  "It’s a good spot.  Never know what you’ll hear.”

Cullen stares, wondering if it’s some sort of allusion to The Iron Bull’s..occupation or to Cullen’s guilty little eavesdropping secret and The Iron Bull grins.  They’re in some sort of standoff until The Iron Bull lets out a guffaw and the tension is broken.  "You’re not the type to just back down, are you, Commander?  Good.  That’s good.“

"Not anymore.”  Cullen finds the words slipping out before he can stop himself.  "Not from things I care about.“

He isn’t sure what they’re speaking of anymore.  The subject seems to have shifted without any warning, but The Iron Bull is still grinning and nodding.  He drops a heavy hand onto Cullen’s shoulder.  "So about you, and the Boss, and Dorian.”

Cullen was right.  The conversation /has/ shifted.  He meets the Qunari’s gaze with a measured one of his own.  Now, how did the Inquisitor put it?  "What happens between us is no one’s business but our own.“  It comes out defensive, but Cullen knows how soldiers can be, and despite whatever else he might be, The Iron Bull is a soldier at heart.

"Not saying it isn’t,” The Iron Bull reassures him and releases Cullen’s shoulder to gesture instead.  "But, I like the Boss, and Dorian, he’s a good sort for a ‘Vint.  Has my back in battle anyway, and not too hard to look at, if you’re into that sort of a thing.  I like to think I have their backs too..“

Wait.  What is this?  Cullen, blinks, and then blinks again.  "Are you..?  Is this a shovel talk?”

“Good!”  The Iron Bull booms as he gives Cullen a pat on the back that sends the human stumbling.  "We’re on the same page, then.  You don’t hurt them, and I don’t have to tear you limb from limb, slowly.“

Cullen knows that he should be reacting to the threat with more than a slow nod, but he’s having trouble believing this is even happening.  It’s not a situation he’s ever imagined being in, let alone from this source, and now that it’s happening, he’s not sure how to cope.  "I don’t plan on hurting them.”  Cullen doesn’t.  He would do anything to avoid that.

The Iron Bull seems to find what he wanted to see in Cullen because he steps back and turns to head back inside.  "Great.  Glad we had this talk, Commander.  Maybe tomorrow we can talk about the trebuchets, but for now I’ll expect you’ll be wanting to gather up your boys.  They looked pretty well on their ways to being sloshed when I left them to the Chargers’ tender mercies to /get a little breath of fresh air./“

"They’ve been drinking?” Cullen’s eyes widen and he steps around The Iron Bull to enter the tavern before the Qunari.  All thoughts of threats are out of his mind as he rounds the corner to find the Inquisitor stone cold sober, and Dorian, not.  They both smile at him though, and Cullen feels himself relax as he moves in closer.  There’s a little strain around the Inquisitor’s eyes, but it eases the moment Dorian pulls Cullen down to sit between them.

“What took you so long?  Bull said he would find you for us forever ago!”  Dorian is warm where he’s pressed against Cullen’s side.

“He had some questions about..trebuchets,” Cullen explains, deciding to leave it at that.  He steals the rest of Dorian’s drink before the mage can finish it then gives each of his lovers a nudge with his shoulders in turn.  "How about we get out of here?“

They agree, so the three of them rise and head for the door Cullen rushed through mere minutes before.  From where he’s ensconced with the Chargers, The Iron Bull raises a glass to them in salute as they pass.  Cullen favors him with a nod, but then he’s busy keeping a more-than-tipsy Dorian on a straight line path out into the night air.

 

**Josephine  
**

Cullen balances his stack of paperwork in one hand as he pushes open the first of the several heavy doors that lead to the War Room.  He walks through the doorway to find himself face to face with an angry Josephine.  She pokes him in the chest hard enough for her perfectly manicured nail to make an audible ping against his breastplate.

Cullen drops his paperwork out of sheer terror.  If Josephine is here and angry then Leliana must be right around the corner waiting to eviscerate him, and he doesn’t even know what he did.

Josephine glowers as Cullen glances around to try and get a sight of Leliana.  “You,” she growls, reinforcing the word with another poke to the chest.  “Didn’t.  Tell.  Me.”

He begins to wrack his brain for what it is he didn’t tell her, but draws up blank.  Well, there’s the content of the reports that are now scattered across the floor, but they’re supposed to be meeting about that in a few minutes, so she can’t possibly be upset about that.

Cullen gives up.  He holds up his hands in surrender.  “I didn’t tell you what?”

For one brief moment he thinks she’s going to hit him, but instead she throws her arms up in the air and turns away, huffing, “Men!”

Before Cullen can get a word in edgewise, she spins back around to face him.  “About you, and the Inquisitor… _and_ Dorian!”

Cullen is aware that he’s standing in an open doorway looking utterly pole-axed, but there’s nothing for it.  This makes no sense.  “You knew,” he insists.  “You knew before I did!  You and Leliana were giggling about it while they were _courting_ me.”

That was the wrong thing to say.  Cullen has looked his own imminent death right in the face and somehow he wasn’t as terrified as he is right now.

“But you didn’t _tell_ me,” she stresses.  “We are friends, and I shouldn’t have had to hear it from Scout Harding!”

Oh.  Cullen is clearly out of his depth here, which isn’t all that new of a sensation, really.  He supposes he should be used to it by now.  The best strategy is to apologize.  “I’m sorry, Josephine.  You’re right.  I should have told you.”

Josephine is still glaring and her arms are still crossed against her chest, but she must approve of either his words or the way he’s shifting his weight back and forth like a naughty child because she nods.  “See that you don’t do it again.”

They stand there, staring at each other in standoff until Josephine smiles, all sweetness and cheer, then returns to her desk.  Well, it seems that’s over.  Good talk.  Cullen’s head is still spinning, but he takes the dismissal for what it is and bends down to collect his things.  

Before he can leave the room, though, Josephine’s voice stops him cold. “Tea this afternoon, Commander; and don’t think you’re getting away without details.”

Cullen swallows and nods.  He can feel warmth on his cheeks and the back of his neck.  He meets Josephine’s gaze and gets the distinct feeling that she’s laughing at him.  He’ll take it.  Laughing at him is better than being angry.  “Of course,” he stammers, then makes his escape through the door.

Only to run into Leliana.

Maker preserve him.

 

**+2**

Cullen isn't’ sure what to expect when he walks into the Herald’s Rest.  The invitation for a drink came from Varric, and Culled had tried to beg off, citing that he was far too busy, but the dwarf was persistent.  Pushy even.

Nothing good can come of this.

He catches sight of Varric in the back corner waving him over, and a sense of dread settles over Cullen.  Even from the distance he can tell that Varric isn’t alone.  It’s the Iron Bull he notices first, surrounded by his chargers, and there, tucked into the corner, are the Inquisitor and Dorian.  They’re conversing with someone that’s mostly blocked by the Bull’s body.

Wait.  Is that Hawke?

The urge to flee increases tenfold, but Varric already has him by the elbow and is ushering him towards the group.  “Nice of you to show up, Curly.”

“I’m already regretting that decision,” Cullen hisses.  “Dare I ask what you’ve got planned for me?”

Varric grins.  “That would ruin the surprise!”

“The surprise is what I’m afraid of.”

Varric chuckles at him.  At least one of them is amused. 

The table rouses with a cry of “Commander!” and drinks are raised as Cullen tries to slip from Varric’s grasp so he can join the Inquisitor and Dorian in the corner.  He’s stopped by a heavy arm slung around his shoulder.  

Hawke smells of alcohol and looks older than Cullen remembers him; tired.  His smile is wide, but brightly, though he’s making such a good show of being the life of the party that Cullen doubts anyone who hasn't’ seen Hawke truly happy can tell the difference.  “Knight-Captain,” he cheers right into Cullen’s ear.  “You clean up well.  I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“It’s just Cullen now; I’ve left the Order.”

Cullen’s protest is covered by the Bull.  “You mean the Commander wasn’t always so pretty?”

“Oh.  He’s always been pretty, but he’s done something with his hair, you see.  It used to look like a–”

“It still does when he wakes up in the morning,” Dorian interrupts, having followed Hawke’s train of thought.  “He resembles one of those small dogs the Orlesians have taken to keeping.”

“Yappy little things,” the Iron Bull adds.  “There was this one time..”

Cullen uses Hawke’s distraction to duck out from under his arm.  He squeezes around the table then in between the Inquisitor and Dorian.  If he must endure this humiliation, then he’ll do so while comfortable.

Except, it’s so much worse than he thought.  

Cullen hadn’t noticed Varric leaving, but his return is hard to miss.  Hawke immediately moves to help the dwarf and together they present the trio of lovers with a cake large enough to feed the gather party that reads:  “Congratulations on the Sex!!!!”

The word “Sex” alone takes up half the cake.

This is it.  This is how Cullen dies– not with a bang, but a whimper and the very strong desire to sink down into the ground and never be seen again.  Dorian, naturally, is delighted and the Inquisitor..  He’s chuckling quiet at Cullen’s side; then the chuckle becomes a snort, and suddenly he’s full out laughing.  The Inquisitor buries his face in Cullen’s mantle and must be turning as red as Cullen is.

The laughter is infectious, and in short order it’s the only sound Cullen can hear in the tavern.  He forces himself to look at Varric and Hawke in turn.  They’re both grinning like the self-satisfied _assholes_ they are.  Well then.  Cullen has done some growing recently, and he’s embarrassed, but he _can_ work through it.

“Well, if I’d know you’d get me a cake, I’d have told you about the sex sooner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said smut was next, but I got this prompt and it kind of exploded on me. Things are going a little slow lately because I'm actually working on a Cullen cosplay and crafting armor is eating up a lot of my free time and creative juice. 
> 
> Thank you all again for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks. I treasure it all!


	5. Cleansing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen isn't entirely sure how they even got the bathtub into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the promised PWP. It features first time bottom!Cullen. Enjoy  
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Explicit MMM sex.  
> Toys  
> Rimming  
> Bathtub?  
> Anal virginity?

There are no private bathing chambers in Skyhold.  Well, that isn't entirely true.  There are no functional private bathing chambers in Skyhold.  Privacy is a luxury while there are still holes in the ceiling.  Cullen knows right where they are in the renovations, which is why he's surprised when the climbs the stairs and enters the Inquisitor's quarters to find the floor space in front of the bed filled with an ornate, claw-footed bathtub.  He can only stare and wonder how they got the monstrosity into the room.

 "Magic," Dorian drawls, from where he's sprawled on his stomach, proving once again that he can tell what Cullen is thinking just from the look on his face.  He's not nude, but it's close enough that Cullen is having trouble with his eyes wanting to wander.  The swell of his ass is well, distracting.  His head is at the foot of the bed, and a book dangles from between his long fingers.

"And an ingenious pulley system," the Inquisitor adds, as he favors Cullen with a relaxed grin.  His hair is pulled up into a loose bun--it's endearing, as Cullen has never seen him pull his hair back before-- and he's stretched out in the the tub. "It was a gift from some Orlesian noble.  We got it this far into the room, then had to give up."

"Then you decided to bathe in it?"

"Well, it is a bathtub. Seemed like a waste to let it sit here empty and unfulfilled."

The Inquisitor grins, smug, and Cullen rolls his eyes, but still favors him with a fond smile.  “And I suppose Dorian helped you with the water?”  There’s steam rising above the tub’s rim, and it’s making the whole room feel a bit humid despite the open windows.

“Of course I did,” Dorian huffs as he stretches out over the coverlet like a large cat.  His hands brush into the Inquisitor’s hair and over his face, causing the Inquisitor to laugh and press a kiss to Dorian’s palm.  “He’d be hopeless without me.”

“Yes, I would be,” the Inquisitor agrees with a contented sigh.  He’s stretching as well, and Cullen can see his toes peeking out of the water, curled over the rim of the tub.  The thing is truly monstrous.  It might even be able to hold all three of them at once.

“Oh for the--stop staring at it longingly, and get in with him already.  You Chantry boys, and your pining.  Really.”  Dorian sounds disgusted, but looks fond as he rolls over onto his back and pins Cullen with a pointed look.

Cullen can’t help but lean forward over the bed and press his lips against that pout.  He can feel Dorian smiling as he pulls away to lift his mantle over his shoulders.  Undressing is always a hassle and there’s no way to make the unfastening of his armor attractive.  The awkwardness doesn’t stop his lovers from watching his hands go through the motions with hungry eyes, however.  Their interest gives him a surge of confidence.

Dorian takes advantage when Cullen bends over to work on his boots.  Cullen feels the kiss pressed to the back of his neck but before he can straighten, Dorian is right back where he started, trying to look innocent. The look doesn’t work.  It never works.

His armor gets stacked and hung in the chair that the Inquisitor had brought to the room just for Cullen, but the rest of his clothing gets treated with far less care, and ends up in a heap beside the tub.

Cullen isn’t as body shy as he was, but he dares any man to stand in only his skin in front of such heated stares and not flush.  Wait, no.  No one should be subjected to those particular stares, except for himself.  He lifts a leg to climb inside the monstrosity of a tub without meeting either gaze, but pauses as he realizes he has no idea how he’s expected to enter.  Perhaps slotted between the Inquisitor’s legs would be for the best?

He’s surprised when the Inquisitor pulls him down to straddle his legs in the water, instead of letting Cullen lounge back against his chest.  His legs slot easily against the Inquisitor’s sides, and Cullen grips at his shoulders for balance.  It’s lucky that Cullen is as adaptable as he is, or the surprise could have ended badly.

“Hi,” the Inquisitor smiles up at Cullen with such tenderness, that he can’t help but press their lips together.  It’s unhurried and sweet, and Cullen relaxes into it until there’s no space left between them. Passion begins to build until a splash of water against Cullen’s back startles him.  He turns to find Dorian laughing at them, and trailing his fingers through the water.

Dorian smiles when he sees he has their attention, and he flicks up another splash of water.  “The two of you are such saps.  I can’t tell if this feeling is indigestion or just the result of you two being so sickeningly sweet.”

The Inquisitor huffs and flicks water back at Dorian.  The mage squawks and nearly upends himself from where he’s hanging half-off the end of the mattress. Dorian glares as he rights himself, but the Inquisitor has turned to begin pressing kisses along the line of Cullen’s jaw.  “You love it,” he purrs, and Cullen misses Dorian’s reaction because his eyes flutter at the contact.

His lovers can bicker all they want, but Cullen is going to enjoy himself.

Both men grow quiet, however, and that’s enough to make Cullen pull back so that he can see them.  He’s lucky that the hot water has already brought a flush to his skin, because his lovers are sharing a look that has his hips jerking against the Inquisitor’s stomach.  Maker only knows how they can undo him so easily.

Those looks are turned on him at the movement, so Cullen does it again.  He might not be as experienced as the two of them but he does know how to play this game.  The water laps at the high walls of the tub, and there’s fondness back in the Inquisitor’s gaze, along with the heat that goes straight to Cullen’s groin.

“You can say stop at any time.”

Cullen frowns, because it has been some time since the Inquisitor has felt the need to remind him of that.  They’ve grown comfortable with each other, and have never come close to what Cullen considers his limits.

“Of course,” he answers, because the Inquisitor will accept no less than a verbal agreement, and Cullen looks back and forth between the two of them in a failed attempt to suss out what they have planned for him.

Dorian winks at him.

A bite to the side of his jaw brings Cullen’s attention back to the Inquisitor.  “Well, that’s not foreboding at all,” he drawls with a small bit of humor, as the Inquisitor peers back up at him.  Now he’s the one doing his best to look innocent.  Cullen is not fooled.  It would be hard, considering the man’s hands are stroking up and down his sides, leaving rivulets of water trailing down Cullen’s skin.

“That thing we discussed..”  the Inquisitor takes pity on him between kisses and bites, and Cullen knows instantly why they are giving him an out.  He tenses.  He’s torn between the curiosity of what it feels like to be taken and the fear of the unknown.  The Inquisitor makes it hard for him to remain tense, however.  He digs his fingers into the meat of Cullen’s shoulders, and between the heat of the water and the pressure of the other man’s touch, tension that Cullen didn’t even realize he was carrying begins to drain from his shoulders.  “..the more relaxed you are, the more enjoyable it will be for you.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Cullen sighs, as he melts into the Inquisitor’s touch.  He can’t even think about what’s coming, the Inquisitor does such a thorough job of keeping him distracted.  They’ve been together long enough to know each others' soft spots, and the Inquisitor never fails to take as much advantage of that knowledge as possible.

The Inquisitor tilts his head back so he can brush his cheek against Cullen’s, then presses their lips back together as his hands drift down the muscled planes of Cullen’s back.  Every time that Cullen thinks that this is it, the Inquisitor just cups a little water in his hands and let’s it flow over his shoulders, then starts again

It feels good.  The Inquisitor is pressing a line of kisses into his shoulder again, and Cullen relaxes until there is no space left between them.  He buries his face in the Inquisitor’s hair and thinks that he could fall asleep like this.  That’s when a second pair of hands curls around the flesh of his arse and pulls his cheeks apart, and Cullen realizes he’s lost track of Dorian.

He pulls away from the Inquisitor to twist back and look over his shoulder, catching the Inquisitor’s annoyed look as he turns.  Dorian looks unrepentant as he gives Cullen’s arse a squeeze, then sweeps his thumbs inwards to brush over...there.  Maker, it’s so embarrassing.  Cullen can’t even think the word and he tries to squirm away, but the Inquisitor’s hands are there on his hips to hold him still

“I thought we agreed that I was going to prepare him,” the Inquisitor hisses, and Dorian tuts.  He’s sitting on the rim of the other end of the tub, with his legs down in the water, and Cullen doesn’t even want to think about how Dorian got there without him noticing.

“You were taking too long.  He was practically asleep.”  Dorian rolls his eyes at them both, then brushes his thumb more firmly against Cullen’s entrance.  The sensation isn’t entirely foreign. Cullen washes himself, after all, but it is a little odd having someone else touch him there.  

The Inquisitor huffs, but Cullen can tell he isn’t really upset.  His body is still relaxed beneath Cullen, and he’s made no move to try and get out of the tub.  “That was part of the plan.  He was almost ready.”

Cullen leans some of his weight back against Dorian’s hands.  The added pressure sends a wave of anticipation through his body, and Dorian smirks knowingly.  “Considering he’s already trying to fuck himself back on my fingers, I’d say he’s more than ready to give this a try, amatus.”

“I am right here,” Cullen reminds them, as he tweaks one of the Inquisitor’s nipples.  The body beneath him jerks, and soon all three of them are laughing.

“Oh Commander, trust me; we haven’t forgotten.”  Dorian winks at him, then looks around Cullen to the Inquisitor.  “New plan?”

The Inquisitor shakes his head, and his grin is devilish.  “Same plan; second verse.  Get him turned around.” 

They wouldn’t be able to manhandle Cullen this way if it wasn’t for the buoyancy of the water.  He isn’t entirely sure if he likes it or not, but before he can complain, he’s half in Dorian’s lap and the Inquisitor is kneeling behind him.  Dorian curls forward to kiss him and Cullen wraps his arms around Dorian’s waist.  He can feel the mage’s erection trapped between him just below his chin, but when he pulls back from the kiss to take it into his mouth, Dorian stops him.

“Wait for it,” he instructs, and instead recaptures Cullen’s lips, even though it must be getting hard for him to breathe, curled as severely as he is.

Cullen is confused of course, but does as he’s told.  It’s not a hardship having Dorian’s mouth on his own.  The mage takes his breath away, even in the uncomfortable position.

The Inquisitor hooks his hands under Cullen’s thighs and lifts, until he’s barely even in the water at all, and is instead stretched out between the two of them.  He has no idea what’s coming, or how this position is even practical for anything, but Cullen is also distracted by Dorian’s tongue dragging along the roof of his mouth.  He’s not expecting it at all when the Inquisitor ducks down and runs his tongue from the underside of Cullen’s balls, all the way up to the dimple above his ass.

Cullen’s body jerks, and it’s only the grace of his lovers’ hold on him that he doesn’t concuss himself on the side of the tub.  The air gets trapped in his lungs, and he pulls back to cough it out as he sends wide-eyed looks back and forth between the two of them.  Dorian lets out a tiny snort that he’ll deny later.  “Now you understand why I didn’t want my cock in your mouth when that happened, dearest.”

Cullen gets his breathing under control and shakes his head.  “But, it’s dirty.”

The Inquisitor plants a kiss to the small of Cullen’s back.  “Well, how fortunate we’re in a bathtub.  Fancy thing, that.  If you would like to go back to fingers though, just--”

“I didn’t say that,” Cullen interrupts, and they’re smirking at him again.  One day, he will be the one that smirks.  “I just..Maker.  Shut me up.”

“Gladly,” Dorian purrs, as he shifts Cullen’s weight so he can tuck a finger under the templar’s chin, directing him towards his cock.  “You’re so beautiful like this; stretched out between us.  Such a shame that we have a war on, or I’d keep you here like this all the time.”

“Might get a bit pruny,” Cullen snarks, as he loosens his hold around Dorian’s waist to give himself a little room.  “Staying in the water that long.”

“The Inquisitor isn’t doing his job if you can still sass at me, Commander.  Let’s just try licking at the moment so nothing unfortunate happens when the lazy bastard starts earning his keep.”

“Not a bastard,” the Inquisitor protests.  “My parents would be highly offended at that insinuation.”

“Yes,” Dorian drawls.  “I’m sure that’s exactly what they would take offense to, upon walking in on this little scene.”

The Inquisitor huffs, then licks along the same path he followed the first time.  Cullen isn’t blindsided by it this time, and manages not to upend himself.  After a moment to gather his breath, he echoes the action with the flat of his tongue, along the vein on the underside of Dorian’s cock.  The next time the Inquisitor licks, he stops at Cullen’s entrance and swirls his tongue around it.

It’s different from when Dorian’s fingers brushed there.  The Inquisitor’s mouth is warm and wet, and each swipe of his tongue around the puckered muscle has a purpose.  Cullen squirms back into the touch without really realizing he’s doing it.  He does his best to continue to mirror the motions, by swirling his tongue over the crown of Dorian’s arousal.

The time for witty banter seems to be over as they’ve all fallen quiet. All that’s left is the sound of their breathing, the wind outside, and the water splashing against the side of the tub-- until Cullen whimpers as the Inquisitor slips his tongue past the outer ring of muscle.

It’s an odd sensation, and Cullen clenches down against it reflexively.  Before he can whimper again, Dorian is there, running a soothing hand through his hair.  “Relax commander.  I promise that we are going to make this so good for you, but you have to stay relaxed.”

Cullen does his best to obey the command, and the Inquisitor is doing an admirable job of not moving at all.  It’s a slow process, and all three of them seem to relax together in the end.  Cullen lets out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, then laps his tongue over the slit of Dorian’s arousal.

The Inquisitor takes that as his cue to move again and presses his tongue forward.  It should be dirty, and disgusting, but the Inquisitor doesn’t seem to mind it as he grows more enthusiastic with every thrust into Cullen.  In turn, Cullen starts to care less and less as time goes on.  

It sneaks up on him; how he starts rocking back in the Inquisitor’s hold trying to get more and how he begins whimpering, then flat out moaning against Dorian’s skin.  Cullen doesn’t think he could get off like this, but it’s nice.  His own arousal is bobbing in the water as he rocks, but there’s no urgency there yet.  He’s content enough with the other sensations he’s experiencing.

Then the Inquisitor pulls back and shares a look with Dorian over Cullen’s head.  “I think it’s time to move this to the bed.”

Cullen blinks.  He’s not really out of the haze of sensation yet, and doesn’t completely understand it when the Inquisitor stands, then pulls Cullen up with him.  Belatedly, he realizes his shoulders are aching, and yes, the bed was a good move.  He’s manhandled back out of the tub, and patted dry by Dorian, who can’t seem to stop his hands from wandering. 

The Inquisitor coughs when it looks like Dorian is going to fall to his knees and suck Cullen off instead, then to the bed they go.  They end up in the same position they were in the tub, but here on the mattress, Cullen feels more grounded--more aware.  He’s pulled up onto his knees, then  the Inquisitor slots in behind him, and Cullen can feel his cock, hard and heavy between his cheeks, and panics a little--it feels huge compared to his tongue, and he’s not ready for something that large yet--but the Inquisitor gives Dorian a quick kiss over Cullen’s shoulder, then presses one to Cullen’s cheek and backs off again. 

Cullen is expecting the tongue to return, but it’s a finger that’s pressed against his entrance this time.  The finger is cool and slick with something, and it swirls around the ring of muscle before slowly pressing inside.  Cullen is more prepared this time, with how it feels to be breached. The chill of the lubricant makes him shiver a little, but it isn’t so strange. 

The Inquisitor thrusts his finger in and out shallowly at first, then deeper to reach depths that his tongue had been unable to.  Dorian hasn’t guided Cullen’s head back to his arousal but is instead watching the proceedings with interest.  He might flush, just a little, when he notices that Cullen has caught him with that besotted look on his face, but it’s hard to tell.  Dorian rolls his eyes at Cullen, then slides down the bed underneath him until they’re face to face. 

It’s the same position they were in for their first time together with their roles reversed, and it’s Cullen’s turn to look besotted.  He curls their fingers together, just as the Inquisitor curls his finger inside Cullen and the tip brushes against something Cullen wasn’t at all prepared for.  The burst of pleasure sends light dancing across Cullen’s field of vision, and he nearly knocks his forehead against Dorian’s as he swears a choked, “Sweet Andraste!” 

A kiss is pressed to the small of his back.  “No.  It’s just me; her herald.”

“Now that’s just blasphemous, Amatus,” Dorian sounds almost proud, but Cullen can feel the Inquisitor shake his head against his skin. 

“Nothing’s blasphemous in the bedchamber.”

Cullen could argue that point, but the Inquisitor curls his finger and brushes against that spot again, and any thought of protest flees Cullen’s mind as if it were never there.  He hadn’t even known there was something in his body that could make him feel this way.  It’s hard to quantify.  Each brush is a wave of pleasure that leaves Cullen trembling in its wake.

He could come from this alone.

The building pleasure deflates slightly when the Inquisitor removes his finger, only to return with more of the cool slick.  He begins to press two fingers inside this time, and it’s uncomfortable all over again.  It still doesn’t hurt, but feels like it should.  There are fingers inside of him, stretching him.

Dorian bites down on his jaw, then there’s a hand on Cullen’s flagging erection, and it’s easier to turn his attention back away from what the Inquisitor is doing.  He seals his lips over Dorian’s, and enjoys the way the mage responds.  Cullen needs the distraction, yes, but mostly he just enjoys kissing the mage.  Dorian is never passive; he fights Cullen for control and then once he has it, he teases Cullen back into fighting for it all over again.

It doesn’t take long for the Inquisitor to find that spot again, and soon he has Cullen moaning into Dorian’s open mouth, and pressing back against his fingers to get just a little more contact.  Dorian’s hands have found Cullen’s arousal, and between the two of them, Cullen isn’t going to make it to the main event.

Just as Cullen thinks he’s going to spill over, Dorian’s fingers wrap firmly around the base of his cock and the Inquisitor pulls away again.  He returns with more slick and another finger.  The discomfort of being stretched is enough to bring Cullen back down from the edge.  The Inquisitor seems to be giving him more time to catch his breath, as he avoids brushing against the spot and instead works on pulling and pushing Cullen open. 

Except, Cullen finds he wants more.  He wants the Inquisitor to touch the spot again.  He wants Dorian’s hand on his cock.  It’s already leaking into a small pool just under Dorian’s belly button.  All it will take is a little more.  He wants to come.  What was a slow burning arousal before, is now an urgent, burning, inferno.  He rocks back hard on the Inquisitor’s fingers and wraps his own hand firmly around Dorian’s cock and tries to incite them into action. 

Dorian moans against Cullen’s cheek, but the Inquisitor stills and puts a steadying hand on the small of Cullen’s back.  “Easy, Commander.  I know you think you’re ready, but you need to trust me.  We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please,” Cullen begs against Dorian’s skin.  He’s not above begging when it’s them.  “Please.  I’m ready.”

It’s frustrating when the Inquisitor pulls away instead of giving him more.  Cullen hisses as suddenly, he’s empty.  Every other time he’s done this, the Inquisitor has returned with another finger, but it’s not a finger that nuzzles against his entrance this time.  It doesn’t even feel like flesh at all.  Cullen tears away from Dorian’s lips and twists to get a look at the hard, unyielding object. 

He only gets a glance, of a clear object, glass maybe, before the Inquisitor is pushing it inside.  Cullen takes it easily at first, but it gets wider and wider and stretches him more thoroughly than he thinks fingers ever could.  He feels like he’s being split open, and his legs are threatening to give out underneath him.

“That’s good, Cullen.  You’re doing so well. There’s just a little bit more.”  Cullen slowly becomes aware that both the Inquisitor and Dorian are showering him with praise.

The little more turns out to be a tapered end with a flat disk that rests firmly against Cullen’s arsecheeks and prevents it from moving futher inside.  The Inquisitor presses a kiss to the flat surface, and Cullen can feel the object shifting inside him.  A little more pressure, and it’s pressing down on the spot with such force it makes Cullen keen.  “Wha-what is that?”

Dorian runs a hand through Cullen’s hair and presses a kiss to his forehead.  “It’s called a plug.  We picked it up in a shop in Val Royeaux.  We picked it out just for you; we all have our own.”

It’s lucky that Cullen is already so flushed from pleasure and exertion that he can’t do so anymore, because the mental image of his lovers picking out something so intimate for him and then buying it, from a living shopkeep, is almost too much to bear.

They don’t take him to the edge again.  Instead, Dorian rolls to the side, the Inquisitor manhandles Cullen down until he’s stretched out on his stomach, then flops down beside him.  “Take a moment; get used to it,” he orders before he pulls Dorian into a heated kiss over Cullen’s back.

Cullen wants to roll over and watch him, but every twitch he makes moves the plug inside him.  It doesn’t yield like flesh would, and if Cullen moves too much the tip presses too hard against his inner walls.  His earlier urgency isn’t gone, but the fire is stoked in the pit of his stomach.  It drives him to try and get the plug to press against the spot as before, but the pleasure is almost secondary to the curiosity.  

He can feel the Inquisitor’s arousal, hard against his thigh, and marvels at how patient the man has been.  Cullen doesn’t know if he would have been able to hold out from just taking him this long.

They could have drifted like that forever, as far as Cullen is concerned, but eventually they begin to move again.  It’s Dorian who breaks first.  His neck is covered in marks that match Cullen’s and the Inquisitor has latched onto one of his nipples when the mage huffs, “Enough.  I’m ready.  You’re ready.  He’s ready.  Any more foreplay, and we’re going to blow the whole thing entirely.”

The Inquisitor smiles fondly, and it becomes clear that he’s just been waiting for one of them to break.  The utter arsehole.  “If Cullen’s sure.”

Cullen huffs and raises up to his elbows.  “I’ve already begged.  What more do you want from me?”

There’s a moment of silence as the Inquisitor seems to consider his question.  “Hm.  How about a kiss?”

Insufferable.  Cullen tries to pull the Inquisitor down to his level, but ends up pulling himself up instead and oh Maker, there’s the pressure from the plug that he’d wanted.  He half collapses against the Inquisitor’s chest, but manages to seal their lips together anyway, hot and desperate.  He leaves no question that he’s ready for whatever is going to happen next, and if they think they’re going to tease him any longer, then they have another thing coming to them.

Cullen isn’t afraid anymore to take matters into his own hands if has to.

“He’s ready,” the Inquisitor agrees cheerfully, after they break apart.  “On your knees like before,” he then orders Cullen.  “It will be easier.”

“Well, thank the Maker,” Dorian drawls as he slides from the bed.  The Inquisitor stays at Cullen’s side, and this time it’s Dorian that draws up behind him.  Dorian runs his hands over Cullen’s back then down to the plug.  He pulls it from Cullen with excruciating slowness.

Cullen’s been full for so long that being empty feels wrong.

It doesn’t last long.  There are fingers inside of him, this time entering easily with more slick, and then they’re gone in favor of what can only be Dorian’s cock.  The mage doesn’t press inside, but stays right where he is with the tip pressing against Cullen’s open hole.  “This is your show, Commander.  By this point I think you know well enough how much you can take. 

Cullen gets the idea and begins to rock backwards against Dorian’s cock.  He’s glad now, that the Inquisitor insisted on using the plug, because he doesn’t think that fingers alone could have prepared him for this.  Again, it’s not bad.  He isn’t in pain after how vigorously his lover prepared him, but Cullen’s so full it feels like he might burst.  Dorian feels impossibly long and thick and oh Maker, how could Cullen ever be apprehensive about this?

Cullen opens his eyes when he bottoms out, to find the Inquisitor sitting in front of him with an awed smile, and his cock hard and purpling, jutting out from between his legs.  “Good?” he asks, and Cullen can only nod.

“Oh.  Yes.”

“It’s wonderful from up here as well, in case anyone was wondering,” Dorian quips, and Cullen looks back over his shoulder to see the mage visibly straining.

Cullen knows how hard it is to keep from moving during this part, and takes pity on his lover by rocking forward until he’s all but empty again.  “All right mage,” he drawls and wonders when his voice got so breathless.  “It’s your show now.  Show me what all the fuss is about.” 

Dorian’s eyes twinkle and he rocks forward into Cullen.  The thrust isn’t hard by any means, but it still takes Cullen’s breath away and rocks him forward into the Inquisitor’s chest.  Dorian draws back again almost as soon as he’s settled, and then it’s all Cullen can do to hold on to the ride.  His fingers clench into the meat of the Inquisitor’s thighs and he releases a little breathy moan each time Dorian thrusts forward. 

The Inquisitor--so sweet, and patient-- runs his hands through Cullen’s hair and presses kisses to his forehead.  Cullen is so overwhelmed, but he tries at least to curl his hand around the Inquisitor’s arousal, but the man shakes his head no and bats Cullen’s hand away.  “Don’t worry about it, beautiful.  I’ll be taken care of as soon as I’m sure that you’re good here.”

Cullen has the presence of mind to glare at him and hiss out between Dorian’s thrusts, “Does it look like I’m not okay here?”

The Inquisitor laughs and curls to take Cullen’s mouth with a kiss.  There’s nothing chaste about the way the Inquisitor plunders his mouth; it’s almost like being taken from both ends.  Cullen shifts his weight to one arm so he can curl his fingers in the Inquisitor’s hair, only to be met by that damn bun.  It was cute before, but it’s infuriating now, and Cullen just manages to get his fingers to cooperate enough to tear the band out.  

The Inquisitor growls into Cullen’s mouth and pushes him back against Dorian before breaking away.  “You’ve made your point.  Dorian?”

Dorian’s thrusts stutter to a stop, and Cullen lets the Inquisitor’s hair go, confused.

“Stay where you are,” the Inquisitor commands then slides down underneath Cullen.  He surges upwards to give Cullen one last kiss before he twists around onto his stomach then gives Cullen a pointed look over his shoulder.  Cullen looks down between their bodies, and there, nestled between the Inquisitor’s cheeks is a plug, just like the one that was inside Cullen earlier.

Cullen nearly goes cross-eyed with the knowledge of it.  This entire time that has been..Maker. These two men are going to be the death of him.

The Inquisitor saves Cullen from having to work out how to shift his weight around to take it out, and pulls it from his body himself.  It’s obscene, the way his flesh seems to try and hold on to the phallus, and Cullen will not last much longer.  He’s been on edge for far too long.

“I know it’s a pretty sight, Commander, but if you could get on with it, please.”  Dorian thrusts forward and pushes Cullen towards the Inquisitor’s open hole.  Cullen spreads his thighs, but it still takes some doing to get low enough to align himself properly without dislodging Dorian.  In the end, it’s really Dorian that does most of the work to get the three of them situated, but once they are Cullen is able to thrust forward into the Inquisitor then fuck himself back onto Dorian as he withdraws.

Cullen constantly describes the things they do together as overwhelming, but now he thinks he’s going to have to redefine the word.

“Maker, yes,” the Inquisitor hisses on Cullen’s next thrust forward.  “Harder.”

Cullen pulls back to comply, but on his next thrust forward, Dorian pushes with Cullen.  It upsets their rhythm, but their combined forces bring them down on the Inquisitor, hard.  The Inquisitor groans into the pillow and his back arches as he pushes back against them both.  Cullen goes with Dorian as the mage goes back, and then it continues like that.  It’s almost as if Dorian is fucking the Inquisitor through Cullen.

Something has to give.  Cullen’s arms shake with the effort of holding himself up so he doesn’t crush the Inquisitor to the mattress.

“Festis bei umo canavarum,” Dorian curses against Cullen’s skin as he curls forward to lick a band of sweat from Cullen’s back and snaps his hips forward again.  Cullen doesn’t know what it means, but his breath catches in his chest at the sound of it anyway.  Dorian must be close if he’s slipped into Tevene.

Cullen doesn’t know who falls over the edge first.  All he knows is that his orgasm takes him by surprise.  Between the push and pull, he hadn’t even felt the extra pressure building until it releases and he spills himself inside the Inquisitor.  He’s never come so intensely in his life and doesn’t know if he can bear for it to ever happen again.  Cullen’s elbows buckle despite his earlier resolution, and when he comes back to himself, his forehead is buried in the nape of the Inquisitor’s neck.

Dorian must have come as well, because he’s no longer fucking into Cullen, but is lazily pressing kisses along Cullen’s spine as he hums little sounds of contentment.

The only question left is the Inquisitor, who Cullen realizes is still shifting his hips back against Cullen.  He whimpers as Cullen withdraws and settles down at the Inquisitor’s side.  Dorian settles on the other side, and somehow, together, they get the Inquisitor onto his back.  He’s hard, and obviously so close that Cullen feels bad about not lasting just a little longer.

“Please,” the Inquisitor whimpers, and Cullen wraps his hand around the other man’s cock.  The time for finesse and teasing is far past gone, and Cullen pumps his hand with the sole intent of driving the Inquisitor to orgasm.  

One of Dorian’s hands joins Cullen’s.  “Come along now, Amatus.  The time for being stubborn is over.  Let go.”

It sounds like he’s chiding a naughty child, but it works, as the Inquisitor thrusts up hard into the circle of their joined hands and spills over.  Despite his regret about not being able to bring the Inquisitor off earlier, Cullen is glad he gets to see this.  The Inquisitor’s eyes are clenched shut while his head is thrown back against the pillow, and his hair spreads in a halo around him.

They lie there in companionable silence as they all try to catch their breath.  Cullen is unsurprised to find that he’s exhausted, but is surprised at how empty he feels now.  He almost wants to ask them to put the plug back, but that’s silly.  He can’t wear it all the time; he’ll just have to get used to how he feels after being taken.  This will happen again.

“We,” Dorian breaks the silence.  “Are a disgusting mess.  Oh, look.  There’s a bathtub.  How convenient.”

“I don’t think I can lift my head right now,” Cullen groans and nuzzles into the crook of the Inquisitor’s neck.

The Inquisitor seems to agree.  “Leave it.  The tub will still be there in the morning, and we’ll all be sore on top of sticky, so two birds with one stone.  So on and so forth…”

“But dried come,” Dorian protests with a pout.  “Don’t cry to me when you’re stuck to the sheets!  Oh, if we’d only listened to Dorian.”

“Somehow,” the Inquisitor deadpans.  “I think we’ll all survive.  Now shush; it’s naptime you glorious bastard.”  

“Not a bastard,” Dorian imitates the Inquisitor as he uses the sheet to wipe the mess off the Inquisitor’s chest before settling down. Cullen grins and flops an arm over the Inquisitor to curl over Dorian’s shoulder, and drifts to sleep to the sound of their bickering.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I know I kept you guys waiting a long time on this one, but I hope it was worth the wait. I'm having trouble believing I wrote nearly 6k of PWP. As always, I do take prompts for this (and other) pairings on tumblr, or if you want to drop something in the comments here. Comments, kudos, and favorites are very much appreciated and I would have never made it to 20k words on what started as a kink meme prompt without your support.
> 
> I can be found on tumblr @ mostlyharmlessgaming


	6. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted as part of the "I wish you would write" meme: I wish you would write a fic where Cullen is the one that gets hurt physically.
> 
> Chapter Rating: Teen  
> Warnings: Injury, Hallucinations

The attack comes out of nowhere.

They’re passing through one of Ferelden’s more wooded areas, when a rain of arrows erupts from the trees. Cullen goes for his shield, but it’s already too late. Sounds of surprise and pain fill his ears and an arrow lodges itself in his right thigh, as his horse spooks and throws him. He’s still trying to get the shield around him as he lands hard on his back, and the world fades into a wash of white.

Cullen comes back to with a shout; “Cover the Inquisitor!”. His vision hasn’t cleared, but he needs to get up, and get moving. The battle is still going on around him, and he has no way of telling if anyone else--the Inquisitor or Dorian-- is injured. He blinks and tries to get an arm behind him to push himself up, but a firm hand on his shoulder keeps him from moving. Cullen lashes out instinctively, only to be taken by the wrist.

“ _Kaffas_ , Commander! Cullen, darling, I have us covered, but you need to stay down.” Cullen’s vision clears enough that he can make out Dorian’s worried gaze. It’s hard to think and his thigh is on fire. Dorian’s hand is warm on his cheek. “The battle is well under control, but you need to let me help you.”

“Not a healer,” Cullen mumbles, but lets himself be pushed down onto his back. His ears are ringing with the sounds of battle--or maybe they’re just ringing; it’s hard to tell. Now that he’s supine again, it’s getting increasingly harder to keep his eyes open.

Dorian laughs and his hands move down from Cullen’s face to his neck. “No, I’m not, but you need to be still and let me work, so you’ll survive long enough to get to one.”

It’s a little startling; how worried Dorian is. Cullen doesn’t think he’s had anyone worry over him as much since he left home. He smiles even as he fights to stay awake, and flails his arm up to wrap his fingers around Dorian’s wrist. “Would be dead already if anything too important got hit.”

“That might be true, but you still don’t need to be moving about after that fall.” Dorian squeezes his fingers, then pats his cheek after Cullen’s eyes close. “You need to stay awake, Commander.”

Yes, he does, but Cullen is far more worn out than he should be for a flesh wound and a little throw from his horse. He struggles to open his eyes for Dorian; he tries to respond to the worried tone, but it’s a lost battle, and this time the world fades to black.

___

Cullen is burning.

He comes to with a gasp and flailing of limbs. There’s a sudden weight upon him, holding him down and keeping him still. _Oh Maker_. There’s only been one time in his life that he’s felt such pain. Cullen opens his eyes to the Desire Demon smiling down at him. It lovingly cups his cheek and leans in close. “Did you really think we’d let you go, little Templar?”

Cullen snarls and fights against the weight. No, not again; not this. In the distance, he can hear someone calling his name, but his vision is filled by the demon and nothing else. “Please, no more,” he gasps as he arches back, and tries to tear his head away from the demon’s grasp.

“Cullen,” he hears again, and that’s not the voice of a demon. The weight lessens, and then his fingers are being wrapped around something hard and cool. The contrast of the object’s temperature to his own stills Cullen’s breath.

“Oh, wonderful,” he hears from his left. “He’s delirious and now you’ve given him a sword.” Dorian.

Cullen blinks, and the Desire Demon is gone. The hand on his face is the Inquisitor’s, and the object in his hand is his sword. The demon wasn’t real, but this, _this_ is. He opens his mouth to try and speak but the Inquisitor shushes him, and there are tears in the other man’s eyes.

“Cullen, I know it hurts but---” The Inquisitor is still talking, but Cullen is burning. He sucks in a pained breath as another wave washes over him, then takes him along with it, back into the darkness.

He realizes, as he fades, that someone is screaming. What he doesn’t realize, is that someone is himself.  
___

It could be hours or days before Cullen wakes again, but when he does so, it’s to someone talking.

“I don’t know if you can hear me right now, but, Commander, I need you to fight.” It’s the Inquisitor, and he’s near. What is he supposed to be fighting? “You stopped breathing this morning and I need you to..to _not_ do that again.”

The Inquisitor sounds _broken_ , and Cullen attempts to sit up to comfort him, but discovers that he can’t. There’s a weight settled across him, like an ogre sitting on his chest, and Cullen can’t _move_. His breath hitches as he struggles to do something--anything. The most he can manage is making his fingers curl; there’s something warm in his hand.

A gasp that isn’t his own reaches Cullen’s ears, and his hand is squeezed. “Cullen, are you awake? Open your eyes. _Please_.”

Cullen hates to hear the Inquisitor beg, so he does it. He doesn’t know why just blinking is so hard, or why it’s so exhausting, but the effort is worth it to see the Inquisitor’s relieved smile. The room is dark, and everything is a bit fuzzy around the edges, but Cullen would know those eyes and those lips anywhere. He opens his mouth to speak, but the Inquisitor shushes him, and somewhere in the back of Cullen’s mind he thinks they’ve done this before, but he can’t place where.

“Shh. Save your strength, dearest. Stay awake long enough for Dorian to see you, and then I’ll let you rest some more.” The Inquisitor brings Cullen’s hand up and presses a kiss to his knuckles before turning away to call for Dorian.

Dorian must have been nearby, because there’s movement to Cullen’s other side and fingers curling around his free hand. Cullen blinks again to try to clear his head, but his disorientation doesn’t leave. He doesn’t know where he is or how he got there, and he still can’t really move, but he does manage a small smile for Dorian when the other man presses their lips together.

“ _Festis bei umo canavarum_ ,” he whispers against Cullen’s skin, and they’re words that Cullen has heard before, but still doesn’t understand. He wants to ask, but his energy is rapidly draining again, and maybe the Inquisitor was right to silence him. Cullen isn’t sure he even remembers how to form words outside of his own head.

Lips are involved; he knows that. They’re better for things other than kissing.

His mind is wandering, and even breathing is making him tired now.

Cullen’s lovers seem to sense that. They settle on either side of him, each with one of his hands clasped in their own, and they look at him with such awe--such love. He doesn’t think he’s felt so cherished since leaving home. If they need him to fight whatever this is that is making him so weak, Cullen will fight until he has nothing left to give.

He will always fight for them.

“Get some rest, Commander,” Dorian leers as he runs a hand through Cullen’s hair. His tone is teasing, but Cullen can hear the concern and see the worry in his eyes. “You’ll need all the energy you can get later.”

The Inquisitor nods then leans over to press a kiss to Cullen’s forehead. “Rest. I think the worst is over, and there will be time for explanations later.”

Cullen squeezes their hands, and this time when the darkness comes, it’s not overwhelming and threatening to drown him; it’s warm, and full of love.

_____

The next time Cullen wakes, it’s to singing.  
  
He draws in a deep breath, then releases it, and takes a moment to enjoy how effortless it is. The burning pain and exhaustion that have been plaguing him are gone. He still aches, but it’s the ache of a healing wound, and that’s an ache Cullen can deal with. There’s something warm and solid behind him, and another line of familiar warmth along his side. It’s tempting to curl into that warmth and drift back to sleep, but something tells him he’s been asleep for far too long.

Cullen opens his eyes to find that the Inquisitor is the one sitting behind him, singing softly as he cards his fingers through Cullen’s hair. He’s never heard the Inquisitor sing before. Paired with the fingers in Cullen’s hair, the tone is dangerously soothing. His hair is up in the little bun that Cullen adores and hates equally, and he’s relaxed in a way Cullen hasn’t seen in a while.

The line of warmth along his side turns out to be Dorian, who is asleep with his head tucked into Cullen’s neck and an arm thrown over his chest.

The Inquisitor notices that he’s awake and stops singing. His smile is as bright as ever as he grins down at Cullen. The worry from before is gone and has been replaced with relief at seeing Cullen awake once again. “Good morning, Commander. It’s about time.”

Cullen returns the smile, but has to clear his throat before he can speak. “What happened?”

The Inquisitor frowns at that. “How much do you remember?”

It’s blurry. “I remember.. we were ambushed? There was an arrow.”

“That was four days ago,” the Inquisitor explains, as he gently rearranges Dorian so that Cullen can sit up a bit, braced against the Inquisitor’s chest. Dorian grunts through the manhandling, but remains asleep. He looks exhausted, even while at rest, and Cullen wonders if he remained awake through most of the four days Cullen is missing. “You were hit by an arrow in the thigh, then thrown from your horse.”

It’s Cullen’s turn to frown. The thigh wound couldn’t have been that bad, or he would have bled out in minutes. “I hit my head?”

The Inquisitor shakes his head, as he leans over just enough to retrieve a mug from the bedside table. He holds it up to Cullen’s lips so he can drink, and continues explaining. “That’s what we thought at first, but we couldn’t find a wound. After some persuading, one of the bandits confessed that there was a poison on their arrows.”

The water in the mug is lukewarm at best, but it feels like heaven against his ravaged throat. Cullen has no memory of it, but he feels as if he’s been screaming. “Ah, that explains things.”

“Yes, it does,” the Inquisitor agrees. He looks somewhere between thunderous and heartbroken, and it’s clear that he’s just as exhausted as Dorian. This has been hard on all of them. “He assured me that it wasn’t fatal. They wanted to take _me_ alive, but you were getting worse, and then you stopped breathing…”

He trails off and Cullen searches around to find the Inquisitor’s hand, then gives it a squeeze. “I’m still here.”

The Inquisitor smiles, but there are tears in his eyes. “Yes, you are. I told them you were a fighter.”

Cullen finishes the water, then turns his head to press a kiss against the Inquisitor’s collarbone. “I’ll always fight for both of you.”

The Inquisitor, in turn, presses a kiss to the top of Cullen’s head. “And us, for you.” He manhandles Cullen to sit upright, then slips out from behind him before leaning Cullen back against the pillows. “Now, you get some more rest. The mistress of this fine establishment has made some excellent broth just for you, and when I get back, you are going to eat all of it.”

Cullen’s stomach rumbles as if on cue, and he realizes that yes, he is starving. He also knows better than to ask for something more than broth, considering he’s going on four days with an empty stomach. “As you wish, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor rolls his eyes, but he’s too pleased to pull off looking annoyed. “I have Dorian to give me lip, I don’t need you to start doing it as well, Ser.”

“But it’s so much fun,” Cullen grins back, as he settles back down to rest.

Dorian growls and grumbles, “Stop moving, you heathen,” without truly waking up, and it’s so normal that Cullen can’t help but laugh.

The Inquisitor is laughing as well, and shaking his head as he turns to leave. “I’ll let everyone know that you’re awake, but that Dorian still needs his beauty sleep and you’re not to be disturbed.”

He’s gone then, and Cullen _is_ tired, but he isn’t _sleepy._ He continues to shift around until Dorian’s pressed more firmly against him, and then takes a moment to just breathe. Cullen might not have memory of the past four days, but he can tell it was bad from the exhaustion written all over his lovers’ faces.

“You’re not allowed to do that again.”

Dorian is glaring up at him, from where his head is resting on Cullen’s shoulder. It’s impossible to know just how long Dorian’s been awake.

Cullen knows he can’t make that promise no matter how much he wants to. Any of them could be killed at any time. “I’ll..try not to.”

It’s the best any of them can do, really. Dorian seems satisfied with the answer because he closes his eyes again. “You owe me so many foot rubs for this. Wake me when the Inquisitor returns.”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading another chapter of this wormhole I got sucked into! I'm still taken aback by all the feedback I continue to get for this story. Thank you all, so much. I'm just wow. The next chapter should be the solo!Cullen fic I owe my beta, but other than that, I'm out of prompts! If there's something you'd like to see in this verse feel free to leave it in the comments or send me an ask on tumblr. I might be slow, but so far I have gotten to everything people leave me.
> 
> I can be followed on tumblr @ mostlyharmlessgaming.


	7. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Cleansing my lovely beta requested a Solo!Cullen fic. This is that fic.
> 
> Chapter Warnings:   
> Masturbation.  
> Sex Toy.  
> Explicit

They’ve been gone for two weeks.  This is nothing out of the ordinary; it takes time to travel to the Western Approach, but Cullen is feeling the absence more keenly than usual.  His quarters feel cold and empty, and it has nothing to do with the hole in his ceiling.

Cullen’s no stranger to sleepless nights, but said sleeplessness being because his bed is too empty, is a new issue.  He’s put one of his camping furs on the bed for extra warmth, but as much as Cullen enjoys the feel of fur against his skin, the added warmth doesn’t seem to be lulling him to sleep.

If his lovers were here, they’d be cuddled up against him, or maybe they’d be taking advantage of getting a little time alone.

Cullen’s hand moves down over the plane of his chest to his stomach, as he turns that image around in his mind.  His own touch isn’t the same, but it sends shivers down through his body despite the difference.  He barely even pauses above his navel before moving his hand lower, through the line of blond hair that trails down toward his arousal.

He’s already half-hard.

It’s all too easy to pretend that Dorian’s teasing fingers are the ones wrapping around Cullen’s cock, with a touch too light to get him off.  Cullen does his best to emulate what the mage would do.  He traces the vein on the underside with feather light touches, then presses his thumb down against the slit.  It’s tempting to wrap himself in his fist and pull at his cock until he’s done, but over the past few months, Cullen’s learned how good the build up can be.

Just as Cullen takes himself firmly in hand, his eyes stray over to the chest in the corner.  

Before they’d left, Dorian had passed Cullen his plug with a lingering kiss and a jaunty, “Think of me when you use it.”  Cullen had flushed at the comment, and growled about not being insatiable.  He could survive without them.

Dorian will be insufferable if he finds out what Cullen’s about to do.

Now that the thought is in his head, Cullen’s body seems to move on its own over to the chest, where he rummages for the hidden plug.  It seems silly now, that he buried it so deep.  He wants it.  Immediately.  

Despite the pause, his erection doesn’t flag.  If anything, he’s harder than he was before he stood up.

Cullen settles down on his back and draws his knees up, but the angle is awkward, so he rolls up onto his knees.  The Inquisitor would be pressing kisses along the curve of Cullen’s spine as he worked his fingers inside, but the only fingers Cullen has are his own, and he can only imagine the sweet kisses.  He bites at his lower lip as he works himself open for the plug.

One finger, then two; just the way his lovers taught him, and then he spreads his thighs just so, and the tips of his fingers brush against his prostate.  Cullen sucks in a breath, then repeats the motion; harder.  His hips jerk and the motion threatens to send Cullen’s body pitching forward.  If he keeps this up, he’ll never even make it to the plug, so he removes his fingers and reaches for the smooth, glass piece.

It’s a tighter fit than when the Inquisitor used it on him, but Cullen finds that he doesn’t mind it all that much.  The burn and stretch keep him grounded, until he bottoms out at the flat base.  

Cullen shifts again, spreading his legs even further and clenches down on the plug.  Yes.  Marvelous.  Every small twitch of his hips moves the glass around inside him and brings forth memories of his lovers.  The only sweat in the room is his own, but when he licks his lips he can taste Dorian, and when his nostrils flare, it’s the Inquisitor’s scent that fills them.

Alone and undistracted by wandering hands, Cullen has a better opportunity to learn what works and what doesn’t.  Pushing too hard in one direction gives him a bit of a painful jab, and squirming about quickly becomes just shy of enough.  He aches, in more ways than one.

It’s when he reaches back around himself to pull at the base of the plug that Cullen’s legs shake, and the strain of holding himself up becomes too much.

Cullen rolls down onto his back once more, and where his fingers couldn’t reach his sweet spot before, with the plug it’s easily reachable.  He wraps one hand around his cock and begins to push and pull.  The finesse he started the night with is long gone.  Cullen wants more.  Please, more.  It’s not _enough_.

His legs draw up and his toes curl into his furs, as his body strains to get what it needs.  

The Inquisitor would know what to do to push Cullen over the edge.  Dorian would laugh and try to cajole Cullen past the point of no return.  “Come along now, Commander.  Not everything has to be a hard won battle.”

That brings a smile to Cullen’s face, even as his hips stutter and shake out his completion.  He spills over his hand and stomach, then collapses back against the furs, that now cling uncomfortably against his sweat-soaked body.

The draft from the hole in his ceiling soon raises goosebumps on his heated skin, but Cullen is too exhausted to care.  Even sparring with Cassandra doesn’t leave him as worn out.  He lazily licks the spend from his fingers as he pulls the fur up around him, and he closes his eyes.  He’s still alone in his too-large bed but now, with the memory of his lovers so near, it doesn’t seem so unbearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I have all the prompts that have been left for me so far, so look for those to be filled soon. If you'd like to leave me a prompt, feel free to invade my askbox on tumblr or drop one into the comments here. I read and adore everrrything.
> 
> I can be found on tumblr @ mostlyharmlessgaming. Until next time! <3


	8. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After asking for prompts after the last chapter, I got several. This specifically fills none of them.
> 
> Chapter Rating: M  
> Warnings: Frottage, mutual masturbation, power play, orgasm denial, voyeurism 
> 
> Things that were asked for:  
> Cullen goes to the library and Dorian plays with him. Possible end in punishment.  
> Cullen/Dorian with the Inquisitor walking in on them.  
> Cullen in an orgasm denial situation.
> 
> Like I said, these weren't the entire prompts but I kind of ended up..picking and chosing the bits I could mash together. I hope you all enjoy the end result, even if it isn't exactly what you asked for.

Cullen goes over the titles one more time, and lets out a huff in frustration.  He’s been here ten minutes, and the book he’s looking for isn’t where it’s supposed to be.  It makes no sense.  The book should be right there, between 101 More Uses For Elfroot and The Everyday Ferelden’s Comprehensive List of Cheeses.  He’s about to give up when a chuckle from behind him makes him turn.

“Oh no, don’t stand on my behalf, Commander.  I’ll just be right here enjoying the view.”

Cullen’s cheeks flush and he tries to give Dorian a stern look–they are in public after all–but it has little effect on the leering mage.

“In fact, if you could just shift a little to the left, you’ll be doing a great service to myself and the other mages loitering about the tower.”

“Well, I do so love to be of service,” Cullen scowls as he straightens, much to Dorian’s disappointment.  “I’m here on business.  I can’t seem to find the Codex.”

Dorian frowns, put out, but steps forward to peer at the stacks anyway.  He taps his finger against his cheek as he scans through the titles.  “The Codex is a bit much for a little light afternoon reading, Commander.”

“Solas recommended it to cross-reference some runes the men found in the Emerald Graves.”  

“Yes, I suppose that explains things.  It’s been an uphill battle getting this library into shape.  Every time I think I’ve gotten it all in order, whoops, there’s a book out of place.  Did you check to see if perhaps it had been misfiled in the bestiary section?”  

Dorian is passionate about the library, and Cullen has no reason to mistrust him, so he moves a stack to the left and begins scanning the titles.  Nothing seems out of place at the top, so he bends at the waist to check the bottom shelves.  “I don’t see it,” he sighs, before standing straight once more.

Dorian has moved to lean back against the railing to watch Cullen search.  “Hm, perhaps the other side?”

Cullen sighs and moves two stacks to the right and repeats the process.  Still no book.  “I’m still not seeing it.”

“Well, I’m certainly seeing something,” Dorian snorts.

“Is it the book I’m looking for?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Cullen growls and closes the space between them.  “You, serrah, are insufferable.”

Dorian tilts his chin back and his lips curl into a smirk that Cullen aches to kiss away.  “You love it.”

It’s a familiar song and dance, but Cullen isn’t in the mood for it.  “Love isn’t the word that comes to mind right now.”

“Adore, then.  It’s alright to admit it.  I understand that I’m irresistable.  I mean, how could you resist this physique?  This musculature?  I’m perfection.”  Dorian leans forward to kiss him, but Cullen pulls back.

“Book.”

“No; ‘Dorian’.  The books are on the shelves, also; they are not sentient, which I believe is the best for us all.”

Cullen licks his lips and pins Dorian with a look.  “I know you’re leading me around in circles so you can stare at my..assets.”  Normally, he’s more indulgent of Dorian’s games, but now is not the time, and Cullen’s patience is wearing thin.

Dorian smiles, but seems to read Cullen’s deteriorating mood.  “And what fine assets they are, but I can see you’re on to me.  The last time I saw that book of yours, it was in the Inquisitor’s quarters where you left it; last week.  Naughty boy, taking books out of the library.”

That can’t be true.  “Where I left it?”

Cullen tries to think back as the frown on his face goes.  He has no memory of even touching the book, but there’s any number of explanations.  It’s possible Dorian could be telling the truth.  

“This isn’t some elaborate ruse to lure me back to the Inquisitor’s quarters, is it?”

“Commander,” Dorian pouts and Cullen almost regrets his suspicion.  “Why must you always think the worst of me, and as far as plans go that one is..well, is actually an excellent one.  Come along, then!  I should accompany you, just to be sure.”

Dorian snags Cullen by the mantle and begins dragging him along.  It takes a moment for Cullen’s mind to catch up and he halts hard enough to make them both stumble.  “Wait, Dorian, we can’t.  It’s the middle of the day.  We’ll be missed.”

“Nonsense!  You need your book, don’t you?”  That is a fair point, but Cullen is sure that getting his book isn’t all of what they’ll be doing.  It isn’t even half.  Dorian in the meantime, has no patience for Cullen’s reluctance.  “I’m just making sure you don’t get lost on the way, and once we get there, you can reprimand me for my little joke to your heart’s content.”

“I should take you over my knee.”  It’s out of his mouth before Cullen even realizes he’s said it.  He blushes at the implications, but Dorian looks downright gleeful.

He waggles his eyebrows at Cullen.  “Promises, promises.”

Cullen hides his face behind his hands as they start up the staircase.  What did he do to deserve so much grief over one little book?

Dorian’s on him before he can even make it through the doorway.  Cullen’s back hits the door with enough force to slam it shut.  He groans and opens his mouth to grant Dorian’s tongue entry.  There’s no denying that Dorian is a skilled kisser, and it’s all that Cullen can do to hold on for the ride.

It doesn’t matter that Dorian and the Inquisitor have made a game of accosting him in dark hallways and corners to ply him with kisses, among other things, Cullen’s mind still shorts out at the press of lips to his own.

When Dorian starts to pull away, Cullen follows him and with a quick roll, he reverses their positions.  Dorian makes a pleased sound even as his back hits the door, and he grinds his groin forward against Cullen’s.  It’s not enough.  Cullen’s hands slide down under the curve of Dorian’s ass then he hefts the mage upwards until Dorian gets the idea and wraps his legs around Cullen’s waist.

Cullen digs his fingers in and presses Dorian hard against the door.  It’s a wonder Dorian can breathe at all with what little space lies between them.  His fingers are fisted in Cullen’s mantle, and he seems to be trying to pull Cullen even closer.

It’s the most out of control Cullen’s ever been, but it’s so delicious that it’s making him question why he’s never let go this way before.

He pulls away from the door and they stumble towards the bed, but only make it as far as the desk.  It’s a flat surface.  That’s good enough for Cullen, and Dorian seems to be in agreement because his fingers are working at the stays of Cullen’s armor.

They’re so caught up in each other that they don’t notice the door open; nor do they hear the polite cough that follows.

“You know, a lesser man would be offended at this point.”

It’s a good thing that Dorian’s sitting on the desk because Cullen would have dropped him.  He jumps out of his skin, then whirls around to face the Inquisitor, who is leaning back against the door, watching them.

“I..you..he..we..” Cullen stammers then shuts up, as he’s making a fool of himself.  He feels strangely guilty,  though the Inquisitor looks nothing more than intrigued at the compromising position he’s found them in.

Dorian slides down from his perch on the desk and moves to stand next to Cullen.  “What Cullen means is, he’s punishing me for a little practical joke I pulled earlier.  It was, perhaps, ill conceived of me, but I’ll treasure the memory forever.”

The Inquisitor looks thoughtful.  “Seems to me that you were enjoying that a bit much for it to be a punishment.  Should I leave you two to it, then?”  The words are light enough, but Cullen can see that look in the Inquisitor’s eyes that means he’s doubting his own value again.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Amatus.  The more, the merrier.  You know that,” Dorian snips, before Cullen can even open his mouth.

“Oh?”  The look is already fading from the Inquisitor’s eyes and Cullen lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  “I do think that perhaps you both deserve a little punishment, however, for starting without me.”

Cullen’s mouth goes dry.  They all know that Cullen wasn’t really punishing Dorian for anything, but the Inquisitor seems to have something very specific in mind.  Dorian damn near bounces with what Cullen can only assume is anticipation.  He gives the Inquisitor a long look, as if he’s sizing the man up for whatever is going to happen next.

It’s strange.  Cullen has never really had a taste for these kind of games, but it’s not out of his realm of knowledge either.  Despite that, he finds himself curious.  He doesn’t think that the Inquisitor will hurt them, so what will punishment entail?  The Inquisitor’s face gives nothing away, and Cullen thinks there’s a promise there, but a promise for what?  What does he have in mind?

“What do you have in mind, Amatus?” Dorian asks, echoing Cullen’s thoughts.

The Inquisitor smiles, and orders them in a tone that he tends to reserve for the battlefield.  “Strip.  Both of you.”

The tone is like a punch to the gut and Cullen’s hands fly up to work at his armor without conscious thought.  It takes him right back to the training yard.  He was eager to please then, and he’s eager to please now.  Dorian seems to be similarly affected, because his hands are working through the buckles on his own clothing with a speed Cullen is impressed by.

Movement from the corner of his eye draws Cullen’s gaze to the Inquisitor.  He’s made no move to strip himself, and is instead tending to the fire.  Once it’s a cheerful blaze, he moves the two wingback chairs in the room to sit in front of it, facing each other with barely a yard between them.   The Inquisitor might as well be sitting in his throne with the way he arranges himself in the chair of his choice.  The change in demeanor might have been worrying, if Cullen hadn’t witnessed it before.

The Inquisitor sits, still and regal, as he stares into the flames for a moment before he turns back to where his lovers are still undressing. “Cullen,” he calls, and Cullen shimmies out of the rest of his clothing then goes to the Inquisitor’s side.  He steels himself as the Inquisitor looks him over with a heavy-gaze.  It should make Cullen feel all of seven again, but there’s a hunger there that reminds him that he is no child.

How is it that one look from that man can take Cullen from apprehensive to aching?

“Go on, sit down.”  The Inquisitor gestures to the other chair, and his voice is kind, but the heat is still present in his eyes.  

Cullen hesitates, but does as told.  It’s only a game, after all.  The Inquisitor smiles at him, then beckons Dorian over.  “Good.  Now Dorian, in his lap, please.  Facing me.”

Dorian takes his time sauntering over–trying to get a rise out of both of them.  He moves like one of the wild lions that sometimes trailed their hunting parties in the Frostbacks.  Cullen can see the different muscle groups clenching and releasing, working together to propel the mage forward until he’s sitting primly in Cullen’s lap.

The cleft of his ass brushes against Cullen’s arousal, drawing a hiss from them both.

“Good,” the Inquisitor praises them again, as he leans back in his chair.  It’s odd, being naked and on display for the man, while the Inquisitor himself remains fully clothed.  It makes Cullen feel more vulnerable, in a way.  There’s a clear line drawn to where all the power resides in their room, and he isn’t on the right side of it.  “Let’s talk about rules.  Number one:  There will be no speaking, aside from a few certain exceptions.  You may beg.  You may moan, and well, this goes along with rule number two: you must tell me when you’re close to coming. ‘Ser, I’m close’ will do.  Finally, rule number three:  You cannot come without permission.  Agreeable?”

Dorian looks a little put out at the first rule, but he agrees anyway.  “Whatever you want, Amatus.”

The Inquisitor gives him a look for speaking, so Cullen nods his own agreement.

Once both of them agree, the Inquisitor relaxes back in his chair, but keeps them pinned with his intense stare.  “One last thing; there’s one more exception to rule number one.  Your watchwords.  Dorian?”

“Patrem,” Dorian answers immediately when asked, but Cullen must look confused, because the Inquisitor stops to explain.

“Sometimes things get rather..intense, and stop might not really mean stop.  Pick a word, something that you’d never say during the..hm..throes of passion, and I’ll know that you really need to stop, and will do so.”

It sounds unnecessarily complicated to Cullen, but he has no experience in this particular area so he does as told.  “Kirkwall.”  He is curious, however, at how easy it is for both the Inquisitor and Dorian to fall into their roles.  Was this something they did together, before wooing Cullen?

“Very well.  Let’s get started.”  The Inquisitor’s tongue peeks out from between his lips as he seems to take great care in picking his next words.  “You both are already so eager, but foreplay is important.  Cullen.  Why don’t you kiss Dorian’s neck?  You know the spot.”

It’s phrased as a question, but Cullen knows well enough that he’s being ordered.  He leans forward in the chair and nuzzles his chin against Dorians neck, before kissing a trail from his collarbone to the shell of his ear.  Dorian obliges Cullen by tilting his head to grant him more access.

“Higher,” he orders, and the Inquisitor coughs.  Dorian tenses under Cullen’s mouth, and he shoots the Inquisitor a dirty look.  “You said we were allowed to beg.”

The Inquisitor barks out a laugh, and shakes his head.  “That wasn’t begging.  I should have known you’d be cheeky.  For that, five extra minutes.”

Cullen wants to ask five extra minutes for what, but he catches himself and remembers the rules.  Instead, he traces out the letters against Dorian’s skin with his tongue–an easy method to keep himself mute and has the added novelty of drawing a whimper from Dorian.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be distracting enough to sidetrack Dorian.

“Five extra minutes of what?”

“Ten, and Cullen?  Give his nipple a good pinch for me, darling.”

Dorian squawks, as Cullen does as ordered and bites down on the tendon of Dorian’s throat for good measure.  Nowhere in the Inquisitor’s rules did it say he had to follow the directions to the letter.  Dorian twists to glare at him, but it’s softened by the fond look the Inquisitor is giving them both.  “Don’t look so sour at Cullen, dearest.  He’s merely the method of your punishment.  You were the one that broke a rule.”

Robbed of his voice, Dorian sticks his tongue out at the Inquisitor, then moans as Cullen soothes over his bite mark with the flat of his tongue.

“That’s better,” the Inquisitor praises.  “What a beautiful picture the both of you make, and it’s all for me.  Go ahead and spread your thighs, Dorian.  Let me see you.  There you go, hook those gorgeous legs of yours up over the arms of the chair.  I know you’re flexible enough.  You had those legs hooked up over my shoulders just last night, remember?”

Both men whimper as Dorian shifts about on Cullen’s lap, to get his legs over the arms of the chair.  Cullen wraps his arm around Dorian’s waist to anchor the mage down as he moves.  It takes a few moments for them to work the new position out, but it ends with Dorian nestled back against Cullen’s chest, spread wide open for the Inquisitor to see.

The Inquisitor stands and crosses the room to the bedside table, where Cullen knows he keeps the lotion they use as lubricant.  He tosses it to Cullen on his way back over, then takes up his previous position in the chair opposite of his lovers.  “It appears we’ve caught Dorian unprepared, for once.”  Dorian is notorious for showing up at the Inquisitor’s quarters with a plug in place– already stretched and prepared to take his lovers.  “I believe you know what to do with that.  Just one finger for now, if you please.”

Dorian ends up taking the jar from Cullen, as he fumbles with it while trying to get it open.  Cullen coats his finger liberally in the lotion, then snakes his hand down under Dorian’s thigh to probe at his entrance.  The first touch is light and causes Dorian to squirm on his lap, which in turn causes Cullen’s toes to curl in the fur of the rug. The movement drags Dorian’s skin over Cullen’s arousal, where it’s safely nestled between Dorian’s cheeks.

He pushes harder on the next pass, and the tip of his finger slides in past the tight ring of muscle.  Heat surrounds Cullen’s finger and he can’t help but jerk his hips forward to rub his cock against Dorian’s ass.  He knows what it’s like to fuck up into that heat, and can only hope that the Inquisitor doesn’t plan on torturing them too much.

“That’s right, darling.  Rub yourself against that perfect ass.  It just begs for it, doesn’t it?  Begs you to slide that cock of yours between those cheeks.”  Cullen flushes, because the Inquisitor’s words are somehow filthier than the act itself.  He doesn’t stop, though.  

Dorian bears down on his finger as Cullen presses up, and somehow, despite the awkward angle, Cullen manages to brush against his prostate.  The resulting quiver is almost enough to shake Dorian from his lap.  Cullen wraps his free arm more securely around the mage’s stomach, then thrusts upwards with more force.

It doesn’t take long for them to begin to pull small whimpers and moans from each other.  Dorian’s head is thrown back against Cullen’s shoulder, as he uses his thighs to ensure that Cullen’s finger works against his prostate on every thrust inside.  The tension mounts quicker than Cullen expected it, and before he even realizes he’s doing it, he calls out, “I’m about to come, Ser.”

The Inquisitor leans forward in his chair and braces his chin on his hands.  “Keep going.”  Cullen locks eyes with him and continues to push himself towards the edge.  He doesn’t know what the Inquisitor is looking for, but the curiosity is lost as he’s almost there, and–

“Freeze.”

It’s as if a spell has been cast over both Cullen and Dorian.  A long whine tears from Cullen’s lips, as the moment he was so close too slowly fades away.  His cock twitches and aches against Dorian’s sweat-soaked skin, and the mage lets out a whimper of his own at the lost of simulation.  At least the Inquisitor looks pleased with them.  

“Good boys.  Cullen, why don’t you take a moment to cool down a little?  I think Dorian’s cock could use a little attention.  Let’s keep it to hands.”

He has no right to sound so casual,while Cullen’s body is still shaking for the want of his missed opportunity.  Still, Cullen moves his hand obediently from Dorian’s stomach, to wrap around the mage’s cock.  There’s a bead of precum at the tip that Cullen swipes up with a pass of his thumb, then slicks down the shaft.

Cullen has come a long way from guiltily fisting himself in the templar barracks, while the others were asleep.  He feels no shame as he traces out the vein along the underside of Dorian’s perfect arousal, then swipes his thumb against the crown again.

“Yess,” Dorian hisses between his teeth, as his hips give a little jerk.  Cullen answers with a hiss of his own, as the movement grinds Dorian’s ass down against him..  His eyes cut to the Inquisitor, worried, but the worry is unfounded.  It seems he’s going to allow Dorian’s word without further punishment.

Thank the Maker.

Tension is quick to build once again, at the base of Cullen’s spine.  Quicker than he expected.  Dorian is outright writhing now, and it would be so easy to let the motions pull Cullen over the edge, as well.  Cullen bites down on his lower lip and twists his wrist sharply, as he pushes his finger up against Dorian’s prostate once more.

Dorian spasms with a yelp, and calls out, “I’m close, Ser!”

“Freeze.”

Again, their muscles lock and they hang in position, frozen.  Cullen breathes a sigh of relief while Dorian lets out a long sob.  Dorian’s not used to being denied, and it takes him a long time to go limp on Cullen’s chest.  For a moment the only sound in the room is that of their harsh breathing, as the two men try to get themselves back under control.

The Inquisitor doesn’t give them that long.  “Again. Go.”

The cycle begins again.  Dorian’s cock is purpling, and Cullen is sure his is about to burst from the pressure.  This time, it takes mere minutes for them to call out almost in unison, “I’m close, Ser.”

“Freeze, and do try to remember to breathe. Don’t want either of you passing out on me before we get to the big finish.”  The Inquisitor is still smiling and looking oh so pleased with them.  That’s good.  Someone in the room should be enjoying himself, right?

Cullen’s legs are shaking; he can’t seem to stop them.  It’s as if he’s run for miles in full templar armor.  He’s exhausted, but his entire body is lit up like a live wire, and it would be all kinds of amazing, if it wasn’t also the most frustrating thing he’s ever experienced.

Dorian’s breathing is evening out, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he’s thankfully still able to rein himself in; if looks could kill, however.  The Inquisitor is yet to give them another order, and Cullen is almost disappointed.  

The silence stretches on, until finally the Inquisitor stands.  “Change of position, boys.  Dorian, turn around and straddle the commander’s lap.”  He approaches them as Dorian pulls himself up and off of Cullen’s finger, before dropping his legs from the arms of the chair.  Cullen can feel his thighs shake, as Dorian stands then turns to drop himself into the new position.

The Inquisitor pushes his sleeves up to his elbows then takes the jar of lotion from where it fell when Dorian became distracted with other things.  He liberally coats both of his hands in it then approaches his lovers.  “You’ve both been so good so far, but don’t think this is over yet.”

He nudged Dorian forward until he’s almost flush against Cullen, then wraps himself around Dorian’s back.  Surely the chair is going to collapse from the weight of all three of them, but somehow it holds strong as the Inquisitor takes an arousal in each hand.  He doesn’t bother starting them slow.  Right from the beginning his grip is firm, and he moves with the exact force to bring them off quickly.

It’s Cullen who, of course, breaks first.  “I-I’m close, Ser.”

The Inquisitor continues pumping his hand, and Cullen thinks that maybe this time is it; he’s finally being allowed to come, but then then Inquisitor grips tight at the base of Cullen’s cock and once again, things are ground to a halt.  He barely gives Cullen time to whine at the abrupt stop, before the punishing pace begins again.

Dorian whimpers with every stroke until he breaks, “Please,  I’m about to..”  The Inquisitor gives him the same treatment he gave Cullen, and Dorian growls as he tries to pump his hips anyway.

“This is why you’re on top,” the Inquisitor laughs before he bites down on Dorian’s neck until the mage stops moving.  Liquid drips down from the slit of Dorian’s cock–enough that Cullen almost thinks that Dorian’s come anyway–and pools down over the Inquisitor’s fingers.  “Good boy,” the Inquisitor praises, as he lets go of Dorian long enough to lick the liquid from his fingers.

Cullen’s eyes cross and he groans.  “I’m about..come..”  He might have seemed distracted but the Inquisitor was paying enough attention to stop Cullen in his tracks again.  Cullen’s head thunks back against the chair, then his body curls forward as the Inquisitor begins again.

He loses track of everything then.  It’s all a blur of stop, start, then stop again.  Cullen is barely aware of the words streaming from his mouth and mingling in with Dorian’s, until they’re both crying–sobbing really–and begging for release.  He’s writhing.  Dorian’s writhing.  The only thing that’s keeping them from toppling the chair over entirely is the Inquisitor’s solid presence at Dorian’s back, keeping them both pinned in close to each other.  Cullen is going to have a rash from where their thighs are rubbing together, but he doesn’t care.  All he needs is for this torture to be over.

It barely takes the touch of the Inquisitor’s hand, slick from lube and precum, to send them each spiraling back towards the edge once more.

Through it all, the Inquisitor remains cool and in control and Cullen has no idea how to even achieve that state.  It’s absolutely maddening.  Dorian’s forehead is braced against his own, but they don’t even have the energy to kiss each other.  Everything they have is going to the straining of their bodies; to the searching of that one final leap that the cruel Trevelyan continues to deny them.

“My beautiful boys,” the Inquisitor sighs as he presses a chaste kiss against Dorian’s shoulder.  The sweet endearment is completely at odds with the torture he’s putting them through.  “You’ve been so good for me today, and I have the feeling you’re feeling suitably punished, yes?”

“Yes, please. Maker,” Cullen whimpers.  “Close..” Stop.  Start again.

“Amatus,” Dorian whines, slurring the word.  ‘I..pleaaaaase.”

Cullen thinks the Inquisitor isn’t going to take mercy on them.  He hasn’t for the past..hour?  Days?  How long has it been?  His body quakes as he gets close once more.  “Close..”

Just as he was before, Cullen is wrong now.  The Inquisitor smiles down at him, and keeps on going.  “Good.  Come now.  Both of you.  Together or not at all.”

Cullen hears nothing past the word come.  His body reacts accordingly and he goes spiraling over the edge with a force he’s never felt before.  His body is shaking, convulsing, and Dorian’s weight against him is doing the same.  It doesn’t matter.  Cullen’s drifting.  It feels like every nerve in his body is alive.  He’s never experienced a sensation so intense.  The reward almost makes the torture it took to get here, worth it.

He comes back to himself slowly.  The Inquisitor is there, cooing at the both of them and running his hands through their hair.  Cullen doesn’t know if the Inquisitor has found his own pleasure or not, but he can’t pull up the energy required to ask.  Dorian is still whimpering, with his face buried into the crook of Cullen’s neck, and they’re both twitching, as if their bodies can’t quite believe it’s all over.

Cullen could sleep right here in this chair, covered in their spend, and not be worse off for it.

The Inquisitor isn’t having any of that, however.  He gently lifts Dorian up off of Cullen first, then carries him over to the bed.  He comes back for Cullen next, and Cullen has no idea how the man finds the strength to lift him up as well, but he does, and cradles Cullen against his chest as they cross the room.  The Inquisitor puts him down next to Dorian, and the bed is so soft and inviting that Cullen almost drifts off then and there.  Dorian doesn’t move except to shiver, so perhaps he didn’t fight the comforting darkness at all.

Cullen resists though, and for his effort he gets to witness the Inquisitor gently clean them both off.  He wipes them down with warm water and a soft cloth from head to toe, until both of his lovers and clean from sweat and spend.  Cullen doesn’t think he’s ever felt so cared for.  The Inquisitor forces them to sip at a little water next, then feeds them little bits of the dried fruit he keeps in his travel bag.

When it’s all done, Cullen has never been so ready to sleep in his life.  The Inquisitor arranges Cullen and Dorian so that they’re cuddled together, then tucks them in securely with the furs from the foot of his bed.  If he joins them or not, Cullen doesn’t know, because it’s at that point Cullen’s mind gives up the fight against his body, and he drifts to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos!
> 
> I think I have one more prompt left, aside from things from the others I might work in to this one. While I will continue to take prompts for this verse, my attention is kind of shifting to a new, longer, project, so keep an eye out for that in the coming weeks!
> 
> Thank you all again!
> 
> I can be found on tumblr @ mostlyharmlessgaming


	9. Watchword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen uses his watchword. What follows is a discussion about his past that threatens to tear the triad apart.
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Kinloch Hold  
> Kirkwall  
> Suicide Mention

“Kirkwall.”

 

Before Cullen even realizes the word has left his lips, everything stops.  The hands that were touching him are gone, and he shivers in the suddenly cool air.  It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with what is going on, and he begins to apologize.   Shit.   “I..I’m sorry.  I don’t--”

 

“You did, and that’s alright.  We have the watchwords for a reason.”  The Inquisitor presses a chaste kiss to his cheek then rolls from the bed.  “Let’s take a minute to cool down, and then we can talk about this.”  He shares a look with Dorian over Cullen’s head, and as endearing as it is that they care for him so, it makes Culled growl because they’re treating him like the sight of an erection is going to send him running for the hills again.

 

Dorian answers his growl with a roll of his eyes so severe, Cullen’s surprised they don’t just pop right from his head.  “Don’t be that way, dearest.  This is still going better than the  Daddy incident of last year.”

 

“Dorian punched me,” the Inquisitor supplies helpfully as he drops a dressing gown on Cullen’s head then tosses another in Dorian’s lap.

 

“That was barely a love tap, amatus.  I didn’t mean to hit you at all; your face just happened to be in the way of my surprised flailing.”

 

Cullen pulls the robe down around his shoulders and lets the extra fabric pool in his lap.  He’s mortified to find that despite his kneejerk use of his watchword, and the talk that’s looming on the horizon, he’s still hard.  His body is even slower on the uptake than his mind.  The time for arousal is clearly over.

 

This isn’t the way he wanted to have this conversation, but he’s set them on a path that he now has no choice but to follow.  Cullen is sure with enough prodding his lovers would accept whatever excuses he gives them, but he respects them more than that.  He loves them, and they deserve to know this part of him, ugly as it is.

 

No more hiding.  Maker, he doesn’t want to do this.

 

The Inquisitor pulls up a chair instead of joining them on the bed, and Dorian scoots up until his back against the headboard.  They’ve sensed Cullen’s mood, and are backing off.

 

“Was it something we did?” the Inquisitor leads when Cullen doesn’t immediately begin to explain himself.  Cullen shakes his head.

 

Dorian hums, and Cullen can see him going over the moments that led up to Cullen’s use of his watchword.  “Was it something I said?”

 

Is the big strong templar going to put this naughty mage in his place?  Dorian’s words echo through Cullen’s mind again.  He feels sick, but manages to nod his head.

 

It takes him a moment to find his voice.  “I didn’t want to burden either of you with this, but I’ve done you a disservice by keeping it from you.”  Cullen looks square at Dorian as he continues.  It affects the Inquisitor as well, but Dorian is a mage.  “You deserve to know who I am, what I’ve done, and why I will never even consider  putting you in your place. ”

 

It’s an about face from the light-hearted love making they were about to muddle their way through, and Cullen regrets that it has to happen this way.   So many regrets.  The Inquisitor leans forward and braces his elbows on his knees, but neither of them press for Cullen to continue even though they’re obviously curious about where this is going.

 

Cullen licks his lips and tries to figure out where to begin.

 

“I joined the Templar Order becaused I wanted to help people.”  He lowers his eyes and traces his fingers over the embroidery that decorates his robe.  “There were two older templars stationed in Honnleath when I was a child, and I idolized them; dogged their steps as often as I could and they never had a harsh word for me.  It was Ser Geoffry that taught me how to hold a sword.  The threat of an apostate mage was such a distant thing.  They were kind, and helped protect the village and I wanted to be just like them.”

 

Cullen’s vision of the Order and reality were two entirely separate things.  He scoffs and curls the fabric tight between his fingers as he continues.  “I wanted to help people, but, somewhere along the way I lost that; or, well, more accurately, I learned that  mages weren’t people. ”

 

Dorian makes a displeased sound at that, and Cullen looks up.  He’s not going to hide from his anymore, and if Dorian hates him afterwards, well, it’s no more than he deserves.  Dorian deserved to know all of this before he welcomed Cullen into his bed, and into his relationship.

 

“Fancied myself in love with one, despite all of that.   Maker, the things I said to her, and I sat on her Harrowing; would have killed her if she failed, and told her as much even as I confessed my attachment.  It was merely weeks later that she..I..”  

 

Cullen stutters to a stop, and the Inquisitor reaches out to cover Cullen’s hand with his own.  He doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t look surprised, either, unlike Dorian, who stares at Cullen unblinkingly as he tries to line up this past version of Cullen with the man he knows as his lover.

 

Still, Cullen forces himself to continue.  “She, well, soon all thoughts of attachment were gone and my estimation of mages went from being less than human, to being the monsters that haunted my nightmares; monsters that I’d gladly put an end to, if it meant a little peace.”

 

“The monsters in your nightmares?” Dorian rolls out of the bed in a smooth motion, livid, and heads to the door, robe and all.  “I think I’ve heard quite enough.  I don’t need to listen to this.”

 

The Inquisitor catches him by the arm before he can make it to the stairwell.  “You can leave if you want, but please, let him explain.”  He lets Dorian go, and allows the mage to make the choice for himself.  If Dorian leaves now, Cullen knows he’ll have lost both of them, but he also won’t beg Dorian to stay when Cullen is the one that is hurting him so.

 

Even the air in the room seems still as they wait for Dorian to make his decision.  Dorian gives Cullen another long, piercing look, and almost reluctantly, he perches on the arm of the Inquisitor’s chair.  That gaze bears down on Cullen and his shoulders hunch forward, but Dorian isn’t leaving.  He’ll listen to the rest; what good that will do.  “Well, you’re right about one thing, Commander.”  The title lacks its normal affection.  “This conversation was overdue.”

 

Cullen nods and folds his hands back in his lap.  He grips at the bunched fabric of the robe like it’s his only anchor and presses on.  “I don’t make excuses for who I was.  But I..I need you to understand.”

 

These words don’t come easy.  For all that came after, Cullen would rather relive Kirkwall over and over than even think about what happened in Kinloch Hold.  This is the first time he’s told  anyone what happened behind those sealed doors, and  Maker, please let it be the last.  “During the Blight, blood mages seized control of the Circle Tower.  They swept through, killing mage and templar alike, then sealed any that remained in the room outside of the Harrowing Chamber.”

 

Cullen doesn’t dare close his eyes, though he desperately wants to.  He knows the image burned into his eyelids all too well, and to see it now would be to walk willingly into a waking nightmare.  “They locked thirty-five of us behind the barrier, then one by one they killed us, until I was the only one left.”

 

He stares at the wall.  Cullen doesn’t want to see how they react to this part of his story.  He doesn’t want to see the pity, or the horror, or even the disgust that he didn’t have the good sense to die with the rest of them and put this story to an end right there.  “I only tell you this, because I need you to understand that I saw the absolute worst mages have to offer this world, and what I saw terrified me beyond rationality.”

 

Gentle hands startle Cullen, and he looks up as the Inquisitor’s weight settles on the bed next to him.  The Inquisitor pulls Cullen’s hands back into his own, and soothes his thumbs over Cullen’s wrists.  “How long?” he asks Cullen, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Two weeks?  I was never truly sure.  When the Wardens found me, I was half-dead and completely delirious.  I begged them to annul the whole Circle and be done with it.”

 

“They didn’t listen to you, though?”  Dorian remains aloof, though he looks torn.  Cullen wishes he weren’t.  He only wants Dorian to understand, when the next part of the story comes.

 

“No.  They defeated the blood mages, and saved the innocent mages that were locked inside with them.  I would have made them all Tranquill and not regretted it in the slightest.”

 

Dorian shakes his head.  “You can’t be held accountable for that.  For the Maker’s sake, you said it yourself.  You were delirious.  Cullen.  You were  tortured. ”  There’s a touch of hysteria and perhaps even self-hatred in Dorian’s voice that’s like a punch to Cullen’s gut.  Perhaps Dorian, too, has seen what blood mages have to offer, and come out on the otherside.

 

“Perhaps not then, but I am accountable for the things I turned a blind eye to afterward.  I am accountable for letting that delirious fear fester within myself, and I am accountable for the innocents that were hurt because I was too busy seeing blood mages around every corner.”  

 

The breath seizes in Cullen’s lungs, and the next chapter comes out in an angry rush.  “After three months of  rehabilitation I was sent to Kirkwall, still terrified, and still hating the mages I was supposed to be  protecting.  Even better, my Commander shared my fears, and for a time, I felt  righteous.  Kirkwall, by her account was full of blood mages, and it was just as well that I was sent to root them out.  I became Meredith’s second command in record time, and in my paranoia, I turned a blind eye to things I  knew were wrong.

 

“There might have been no mage with a issue against me directly, but I knew every single dirty detail of what my subordinates, and my superior, were doing, and I did  nothing.  I witnessed it all, and by the time I found it within me to question what was going on, Meredith had already lost her mind, and I was her willing accomplice.”      

 

Cullen slumps forward, emotionally spent.  These are his sins, laid bare, and though he yearns for some kind of absolution, there’s no one in this room that can give it to him.  A younger Cullen, might protest at this point, that despite all of this, he’s come to love Dorian, a mage.  Despite his past.  Despite himself.  The echo of the words he once spoke to Amell brings up acid on the back of his tongue.  Cullen is not that young man anymore.

 

He does love every bit of Dorian, mage and all, but he also knows Dorian has no reason to believe such.

 

“You did come to your senses, though.  You helped bring order back to Kirkwall.”  It’s clear the Inquisitor has been talking to Cassandra about him.  How much, Cullen doesn’t know, but Cassandra only saw Kirkwall when it wasn’t burning; all she knows of before is secondhand through Varric.

 

“Too little, too late.  Kirkwall descended into madness, and so many innocent people died.  After Meredith was..dealt with, I tried, to bring order back, but the city was burning, and the people...There was a little girl--a circle mage that had run in all the chaos--she was trapped in a shack in Lowtown that was burning.  I tried to get her to come to me.  I tried to save her, but she ran into the fire rather than come to me.  I took my armor off to go in after her, and after I pulled her body from the shack, I found I didn’t want to put it on again.”  Cullen’s gone hoarse, but he doesn’t care.  It’s all out now, and he has nothing more to give.  He should feel lighter, for having brought his past out into the open, but he feels nothing.  It’s up to Dorian and the Inquisitor what happens next. 

 

“This is why you push me away on your bad days, after you have your nightmares?  Do you look at me and see blood mage?  Do you fear me?”  Cullen braces himself as he looks back up to Dorian, but the mage seems more stricken than angry.

 

“No!”  he denies it.  “I’m afraid I might hurt  you. ”

 

“Oh, I suppose that makes it better,” Dorian drawls as he stands.  This time the Inquisitor doesn’t stop him as Dorian begins to dress.  It’s clear he means to leave, and Cullen won’t stop him.  “You’ve certainly given me some things to think about,” he all but spits out as he shares a look with the Inquisitor then slips from the room like a ghost.

 

Cullen drops his head into his hands.  He can’t watch the Inquisitor leave him as well, but the other man doesn’t move. If anything, he presses closer, then pulls Cullen against him.  “Thank you for telling us.  I can tell that wasn’t easy on you.”

 

How can the Inquisitor even look at Cullen, let alone treat him with such care and kindness?  “You should go after Dorian.  I’m sure he needs you right now.”

 

The Inquisitor hums, and presses a kiss to the crown of Cullen’s head.  “Dorian needs some time with a bottle to process.  He can get started without me.  I think I’m needed a bit more right here for the moment.”

 

They sit in silence for a long time, until the Inquisitor pulls back.  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that you’ve been through so much.”

 

Cullen shakes his head.  “Don’t be.  I wouldn’t be the man I am today without it;  all  of it.  I might regret the things that I’ve done, but I do not regret where that path has brought me.  I try to believe that I am a better man now; one that has his eyes open.”

 

“You are a good man,” the Inquisitor reaffirms as he tightens his hold around Cullen.  “But, when we were in Haven, you urged me to support the Templars over the rebel mages, why?”

 

Cullen had been upfront about his reasons at the time, but he understands why the Inquisitor is asking again.  He has new information about Cullen’s motivations, and now has reason to question Cullen’s judgement.  “My reasons still stand.  I believe that there are good men and women left in the Order, and that the Order still has a place in the world.  I wanted to give them a chance to prove themselves.”

 

“And did the mages not deserve that same chance to prove that they have a place in our world?”

 

“Of course they did!”  Cullen doesn’t hesitate, as he twists in the Inquisitor’s hold.  “That’s what the Conclave was about!  We were finally making progress.  Things were going to change, and maybe a balance could have been struck, because yes, there’s people like Meredith and Uldred in the world, but there are also people like Ser Thrask and Hawke and a thousand more innocent souls in between.  I..just..I suppose there’s a bit of loyalty in me left.  If it had to be one or the other, I wanted it to be the Templars.  Selfishly.”

 

Cullen can feel the Inquisitor’s smile where his face is buried in Cullen’s hair, and when did that happen?  “Easy there, Lionheart.  I get your point.  I just, had to know.”

 

“No,” Cullen agrees as the fight drains from him once more.  “I understand why you might mistrust my judgement.”

 

The Inquisitor shifts his weight, and somehow manhandles Cullen until he’s flat against the mattress staring up at the ceiling.  The sudden change in position has Cullen’s head spinning, and by the time it clears, the Inquisitor is leaning over him, filling his vision.  “I trust you, wholeheartedly, Cullen.  I mean it when I say that it’s obvious that you are not that man anymore, and the man you are now, is one that I love.”

 

“I love you as well.”  The words come easy now.  “And Dorian, though he may not find it in his heart to love me, now that he knows.”

 

“Dorian loves you,” the Inquisitor insists.  “He  also thinks that the state of the Southern alienages makes a good case for enslaving people.  He was raised in an environment that believes slavery is alright, and  you were raised in an environment where mages are to be feared.  We all have something we need to unlearn.”

 

That’s news to Cullen.  Dorian is vocal about his disapproval of many aspects of Tevinter life, and Cullen just assumed slavery was one of those things.  It’s startling to find out he was wrong, and in a very perverse way, it’s almost a comforting thought.  The Inquisitor’s right.  None of them are perfect.

 

The Inquisitor seems to sense the shift in Cullen, because he smiles, then leans down to press a kiss to Cullen’s lips.  “That’s better.  You don’t look like you’re about to throw yourself from the battlements anymore.  Get some rest, Commander.  I’m going to go check on the third member of our little triad.”

 

Cullen agrees that it’s time to rest, but he follows the Inquisitor as the other man pushes himself from the bed.  “I think that’ll I’ll return to my own quarters for the night.”  The last thing he wants to do is sleep alone, but this isn’t something that will be fixed in one night, and for the moment, Dorian needs the comfort more than Cullen does.  He will make due, somehow.

 

“That may be for the best,” the Inquisitor agrees, though he doesn’t look happy about it.  He reels Cullen in, and kisses him with enough force to send him stumbling back towards the bed.  Cullen groans into the Inquisitor’s mouth, but doesn’t linger.  It isn’t the time, but it seems the Inquisitor has more for him.  “This is not over.  You are as much ours as you were two hours ago.  Do not give in to doubt.”

 

“I am yours,” Cullen agrees.  A kiss and some words aren’t enough to quiet the doubt that’s chipping away in the back of his mind.  It will be hard to make himself believe that they will get through this until he has the chance to speak with Dorian, and that will take time.  They’re both too raw right now, and the Inquisitor with his endless supply of patience and care is best suited for bridging this newest gap.  “Good night.”

 

Cullen dresses and leaves.  The fate of their relationship is in the Inquisitor’s hands now, and Cullen can only pray that his abandoned prejudices won’t be enough to tear everything apart.

 

________

 

Three days later, and Cullen finds himself outside of Dorian’s chambers, debating on if he should knock or not.  He’s tried to give Dorian his space, but Dorian and the Inquisitor are scheduled to leave for The Hissing Wastes tomorrow, and Cullen doesn’t want them to leave without resolution one way or another.  It may be  months before he sees his lovers again.

 

Around the time he builds up the courage to lift his hand and knock, a polite cough behind him makes him turn.  Dorian is behind Cullen with an arm full of books and a steely stare.  “Can I help you, Commander?”

 

Cullen regrets pushing the issue, already.  He should have waited for Dorian to come to him, months separation or no.  There is no welcome in Dorian’s eyes, and the space between them feels as if it were a chasm instead of a few feet of tiled stone.  He’s slow to lower his arm, and his gaze likewise drifts to the floor.  He’s here now, and might as well speak his peace.  “I wanted to speak with you.”

 

His entreaty is met with silence.  Cullen chances a look upwards, and this time he doesn’t flinch away when he meets Dorian’s glare.  The mage looks a hair’s breath from shewing Cullen away, but instead, Dorian’s shoulders slump and he nods.  “I still believe that I’ve heard enough, but I suppose I can humor you.  Move aside so I can unlock the door.”

 

A week ago, the close quarters in the hallway would have shamelessly been taken advantage of.  Now, their clothing doesn’t even brush as Dorian moves around Cullen to dispel the barrier he’s placed on the door.  It takes less than three seconds for Dorian to barrel into his own rooms and put as much space between himself and Cullen as possible.

 

Cullen sighs and bites back his frustration.  He always knew that Dorian might not react well to Cullen’s checkered past, but doesn’t Dorian trust him at all?  Cullen would gnaw off his own arm before he willingly hurt Dorian.

 

He follows Dorian into the room, but doesn’t attempt to close the space between them.  

 

“May I sit?” Cullen asks as he motions towards the two armchairs Dorian keeps in front of the fireplace.  The fire blazes cheerfully in contrast with the heavy melancholy that’s filled the rest of the room.

 

“By all means,” Dorian drawls, pointedly not turning his back on Cullen as he fiddles with his bookshelves.

 

They’re the very picture of politeness in a way they never were before, even when they were complete strangers.  Cullen slumps down into the chair and bites at his lower lip.  Now that he’s here, where he wanted to be, he has no idea what to say.  Dorian isn’t going to tolerate his presence here for long.  All the words that he wants to say are tangled up on his tongue and he can’t get a single one of them out, until, “I’m sorry.”

 

Dorian turns and scoffs at him while waving Cullen’s apology away.  “Sorry for what?  Calling me an animal?  The thing of your nightmares?”

 

“Dorian, I didn’t call you either of those things I---”

 

“Well you might as well have.  That’s what you think of mages, is it not?”

 

“Thought, Dorian.  In the past.”  Cullen runs a hand over his face, trying to stave off the impending headache.

 

Dorian stalks across the room, all the while maintaining the distance between them  “Not far enough in the past that you didn’t have to watchword out at the mere that it’s a mage that graces your bed.”

 

The air freezes in Cullen’s lungs.  That’s not it at all.  He wrenches himself from the seat and all but throws himself to his knees before Dorian’s feet.  It’s an echo of the position they’d been in days before, inversed.  “I used my watchword because the thought of you being  put in your place like the mages in Kirkwall, it makes me sick; and the idea that I’d be the one to put you there?  Dorian, I’d kill myself first.”

 

A choked off whine escapes Dorian’s throat at Cullen’s supplication and callous words.  “Cullen, don’t..don’t speak that way.”  He reaches out, as if to tangle his hand in Cullen’s hair, but pulls back before he makes contact.  Cullen bows his head.

 

“It’s true.”

 

Dorian’s legs bend out from underneath him, and he sits hard on the edge of the bed.  “I..that doesn’t change things.  I knew you were in Kirkwall when the Chantry exploded, but I didn’t understand.  I’d heard the comments, you know; Varric’s little jokes, but I thought  not my Commander.  He would never, but you did.”

 

“I did,” Cullen agrees, because it’s true.  “I did, and it’s not something I can make up for in a lifetime, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

 

“And is this..whatever we have some odd part of your redemption plan?  Oh  look how reformed I am!  I can take a mage to bed and not gag!”

 

“No, Dorian!”  Cullen catches Dorian’s gaze with his own and holds it.  He reaches up to take Dorian’s hands, but stops short.  Dorian doesn’t flinch away from Cullen, but Cullen can tell from the tightening of Dorian’s lips that the touch isn’t welcome.  His hands end up hovering there, with his fingers slightly curled towards his palms then clenching tight.  

 

Words have never been Cullen’s forte.  He’s never told anyone, but he practices the speeches he gives the army before battle alone in his rooms in front of his shaving mirror.  Speaking from the heart isn’t easy for him, and more often than not, it gets him in more trouble than he started in.  Opening his mouth is always a risk, but Cullen knows, that if he doesn’t find the words now, he’s going to lose Dorian, and in result the Inquisitor as well.  He cannot allow that to happen.

 

“We might have started this relationship with the Inquisitor between us, but I have come to love you just as much.  I love the way you hog the blankets and sprawl out to take up all the space in bed.  I love how ridiculous you look in the mornings.  I love the way you capture the feathers of your quill between your lips when you’re intent on what you’re reading.  I love the way you force me to try all the strange foods that you insist are fruits from the North.  I love how expressive your eyes are, and that I can hear your smile in your voice.”

 

Cullen sucks in a deep breath and folds his hands in, as if he were praying.  “I love watching you cast.  The joy you take in the simplest of spells is infectious.  I’ve never seen a mage call on magic the way you do, and it’s  beautiful .”

 

There may be a slight flush to Dorian’s cheeks, but it’s hard to tell in the firelight.  “You think you can proclaim your adoration for all my little quirks and be back in my good graces?  Just like that?”

 

Despite the harshness of Dorian’s words, there’s give in his tone, and Cullen clings to that like a man drowning.  “No, but it’s all true.  I love you Dorian, and perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want to see my past mistakes ruin what we have, so please,  please , tell me what I need to do to make things right between us.”

 

Silence.  It stretches on, and Cullen thinks he can hear his heart start to break all over again.   Maker. He’s ruined everything.  He should have known better, but Dorian moves to curl his fists into the thick fur that covers his bed. “I think,” he begins slowly, and Cullen begins to hope again.  “That you’re already doing it.”

 

Cullen’s relief is so poignant that he could collapse right here on the rug and just revel in it.  That must show on his face, because Dorian hastens to continue.  “I’m not saying that things are alright, Comm--Cullen, but  I love you too .  I like to think I know the man you are now; the one that tracks mud everywhere, has terrible handwriting, and tries to be so stern with his soldiers but puffs up like a proud mother hen each time one of his soldiers succeeds at a new maneuver.  I love that man, but I need time to reconcile him with the man that hated mages so much he allowed atrocities to happen.” 

 

A younger Cullen might have believed that he’d accomplished nothing tonight, but for Cullen, now, those words are enough.  Despite everything, Dorian still loves him, and Cullen can live with that.  Time, is something they have; he hopes.  

 

Dorian reaches out and cups Cullen’s chin then runs his thumb over the scar on Cullen’s lip.  “We’re a mess, aren’t we; the Tevinter mage and the disenchanted templar.”

 

Cullen smiles and leans into the touch.  “And the disgraced Trevelyan.  There’s enough issues between the three of us to keep us busy for the next decade.”

 

“Isn’t that the Maker’s truth.”

 

They fall silent again, but it no longer hangs between them like a barrier.  It isn’t like it was before, but Cullen has to believe they can make something better out of this.

 

He can make something better out of himself.

 

The sweetness of the moment makes it all that much harder to pull away, but Cullen manages.  He captures Dorian’s hand in his own and presses a kiss to the fingertips before letting go and finding his feet.  As much as Cullen wishes he could pull Dorian into his arms and not let him go again, they’re not ready for that yet, and so it is time for him to take his leave.  “I should go.  The Inquisitor was speaking of leaving at dawn, and I’m sure you want to enjoy your last night in a bed for who knows how long.”

 

His impending exit isn’t smooth by any means, but Dorian nods.  “He owes me a week of pampering for this.  The Hissing Wastes?  Really?”  He pauses then looks somewhere past Cullen’s hip.  “You should spend tonight with the Inquisitor, as you said, we’re leaving tomorrow and when we’re gone you’ll--”

 

Dorian trails off, but Cullen hears the words in his mind as if he hadn’t.   You’ll be alone.  “I..I will.  Thank you.”  Cullen moves to the door to let himself out.  Dorian remains on the bed, not really looking at him, but Cullen can see where the tip of Dorian’s tongue is peeking out from the corner of his lips.  He’s deep in thought, and Cullen supposes that he has given Dorian much to think about.  “Goodnight Dorian.”

 

“Goodnight Cullen.”

 

______

 

The next morning, Cullen sees them off with a heavy heart.  The Inquisitor kisses him like a man starving for air, and Dorian at least favors him with a smile and squeezes his hands.  “Hold down the fort, Commander,” Dorian quips, and it almost sounds normal.  “And have the baths ready upon our return, will you?  The only thing worse than riding days through a frozen tundra is riding days through a frozen tundra to reach a desert.”

 

“We’re not going that far south first, Dorian,” the Inquisitor laughs, and it’s only a little strained.

 

“So you say now.  I, on the other hand, will be prepared for the worst.”

 

Cullen smiles, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  “I’ll do my best.  Be safe.   Please. ”

 

The Inquisitor pushes himself up onto his mount and is saying something about Cullen’s concern for their safety, but Cullen only has eyes for Dorian.  Their gazes lock, and perhaps those smiles aren’t quite as strained as Cullen thought.  “I trust that you will.”

  
It isn’t quite, ‘ I trust you, ’ but it’s enough to bring a more genuine smile to Cullen’s lips, that refuses to fade even as the party fades into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's past had to come into play eventually. This was loosely based on an RP the beta and I did based on the same subject. I tried to leave the fic in kind of hopeful place, even if the issue wasn't resolved because I believe it's not really something that /can/ be resolved within a few days. I don't know. Cullen's past, and his relationship with mages then and now, are tricky subjects that I can only hope I did justice.
> 
> Thank you all again for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting. There wouldn't be over 30k words invested in this universe without your feedback to keep me going. I still have a list of things that I'm getting to, and the Cullrian mini-bang prompts come out in a few days, so I'm looking forward to participating in that.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr @ mostlyharmlessgaming Thank you all, again!


	10. Shorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of short blurbs from tumblr.

**Who is the embarrassingly drunk dancer?**

Cullen is fine.  No, scratch that, Cullen is _drunk_ ; very drunk.  He’s not even sure how it happened.  Somehow, a simple nightcap turned into three bottles of sweet wine.  At least he isn’t alone in it.  Dorian is just as smashed as Cullen is, if not more so.  He’s flitting around the room to music that only he can hear, and twisting with such grace that it makes Cullen’s eyes cross– or that  could be a symptom of how drunk he is.

He’s warm and more comfortable than he’s been in a long time, which is of course, when Dorian shimmies in his direction then tries to pull Cullen to his feet.

“Dance with me Commander,” Dorian orders and Cullen can only shake his head in abject horror.

“I _don’t_ dance,” he slurs and goes limp in the chair.  Cullen won’t have to dance if Dorian can’t make him move.

The Inquisitor snorts from where he’s sprawled across the bed, the _traitor_.  He can dance; they all witnessed it at the Winter Palace, but no here he is, throwing Cullen to the wolf– a particularly attractive wolf that may or may not be the light in Cullen’s life, but a wolf all the same.  “Dance with the Inqui-Inquiso- _the ass on the bed_.”

They all have a right laugh at that, but then Dorian ruins it by pulling at Cullen again.  “I’ve already had the pleasure of dancing with _the ass on the bed._  I want to dance with you.”

Somehow, Cullen finds himself on his feet; something about the tone of Dorian’s voice.  He is such a _sucker_.

They sway together, in the approximation of a dance while the Inquisitor warbles a song for them from the bed.  They’re entirely too close for it to be proper but, it’s nice.  It’s not even ending in the disaster that Cullen had been worrying about; that is until Dorian tries to dip Cullen and they end up in a heap of tangled limbs on the floor.

Dorian laughs, unashamed, into Cullen’s neck, and Cullen thinks that, maybe, he should dance a little more often.

 

**Who drags the others out into the water on beach days?**

The waters of Ferelden aren’t known for their warmth and hospitality, but the Inquisitor is already stripping, and Cullen can’t really argue about that.  They’re a week into their vacation, covered in the dirt of the road, and the river does look a bit tempting.

Dorian has doubts.  “Amatus, while I enjoy being clean as much as the next person, I’m not sure that this is a good idea.”  His gaze drifts between pleased at the sight of the Inquisitor’s bared back, and disdain at the river in front of them.

“Nonsense!” the Inquisitor protests as he shimmies out of his pants.  “We’ve been riding for a week, and still have another to go.  I, for one, am not waiting until we make it to South Reach to bathe.  Now, get a move on!”

“He does have a point,” Cullen sighs.  As always, the Inquisitor’s enthusiasm is infectious.  Cullen begins to strip down with the not so vague feeling that he’s going to regret this.  Maybe a quick dip will be refreshing?

No, he’s lying to himself.

Dorian’s barely out of his leathers when the Inquisitor hooks his arms around each of his lovers’ waists and drags them down into the water.

“Sweet Merciful Maker!” Cullen curses and tries to rear back.  Oh, this is so much worse than he was expecting.  The water is downright frigid.  Dorian lets out his own string of curses as he climbs up the Inquisitor’s back in an effort to get out of the water.  The Inquisitor just accepts the mage’s weight on his shoulders with a fond smile, as if this sort of thing happens all the time.

He might be trying to act unaffected, but Cullen can see that he’s shivering.

“So, it’s a little colder than expected,” the Inquisitor admits as he does his best to rinse off without dumping Dorian.  “Let’s get this over with and I’ll make it up to you both.  I know all the best ways to get warm again.”

“I’m holding you to that as soon as I can feel my footsies again,” Dorian grumbles as he hesitantly slides down the Inquisitor’s back into the water.  He dunks his head under for only a second then makes his way to shore.  Cullen follows suit as the Inquisitor takes a dunk of his own.

Cullen looks back just in time to witness the Inquisitor surface.  He somehow manages to not resemble a drowned rat, even with all that hair.  The view almost makes the chill worth it.  Almost.

What happens next makes up for the lack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short and sweet, but I was trying to get back into the swing after taking some time off the series for the Cullrian Mini-bang.
> 
> As always, I'm more than happy to take prompts here, or on tumblr. I've got one left from months ago, but I promise, I haven't forgotten it. I actually have a road plan for finishing out the series now; bittersweet, but I think it's time. Cross your fingers, I'm going to try for a weekly update until it's "done."
> 
> Thank you all again for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments. They mean the world to me.


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